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A/A AN DA 




THE LIBRARY 

OF 

THE UNIVERSITY 
OF CALIFORNIA 

LOS ANGELES 



GIFT OF 



MABEL R. GILLIS 




BY 

AMANDA M. DOUGLAS 

AUTHOR OF "A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD NEW YORK," 

"SHERBURNE STORIES," ETC. 



NEW YORK 
DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 



COPYRIGHT, 1898, 

BY 
DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY. 



THE MERSHON COMPANY PRESS, 
RAHWAY, N. J. 



SALLIE BUFFUM: 

To you, who have been a little girl in later Boston, 
I inscribe this story of another little girl who lived 
almost a hundred years ago, and found life busy and 
pleasant and full of affection, as I hope it will prove 

to you. 

AMANDA M. DOUGLAS. 

NEWARK, N. J., 1898. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER FAQS 

I. DORIS, | 

II. IN A NEW HOME, 15 

III. AUNT PRISCILLA, 29 

IV. OUT TO TEA, . . .... . 42 

V. A MORNING AT SCHOOL, . . ,. . . .57 

VI. A BIRTHDAY PARTY, ... . . . 73 

VII. ABOUT A GOWN, . . . . . .89 

VIII. SINFUL OR NOT ? . . . . . . . . 106 

IX. WHAT WINTER BROUGHT, . . . . .121 

X. CONCERNING MANY THINGS, , * . 145 

XI. A LITTLE CHRISTMAS 161 

XII. A CHILDREN'S PARTY, . . , . . 178 

XIII. VARIOUS OPINIONS OF LITTLE GIXLS, . . . 196 

XIV. IN THE SPRING 213 

XV. A FREEDOM SUIT, ....... 226 

XVI. A SUMMER IN BOSTON, . ... . 243 

XVII. ANOTHER GIRL, . . . ... . 262 

XVIII. WINTER AND SORROW, . . . . . . 276 

XIX. THE HIGH RESOLVE OF YOUTH, . . . . 291 

XX. A VISITOR FOR DORIS, ... . . . 306 

XXI. ELIZABETH AND PEACE, . , ., . . 324 

XXII. GARY ADAMS, . . , . . . 34c 

XXIII. THE COST OF WOMANHOOD, . . . . . 35* 

XXIV. THK BLOOM OF LIFE Lov, .... 367 



" c. ': 



A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 



CHAPTER I. 

DORIS. 

" T DO suppose she is a Papist! The French generally 

are," said Aunt Priscilla, drawing her brows in a 

delicate sort of frown, and sipping her tea with a spoon 

that had the London crown mark, and had been buried 

early in revolutionary times. 

" Why, there were all the Huguenots who emigrated 
from France for the sake of worshiping God in their 
own way rather than that of the Pope. We Puritans did 
not take all the free-will," declared Betty spiritedly. 

" You are too flippant, Betty," returned Aunt Priscilla 
severely. " And I doubt if her father's people had much 
experimental religion. Then, she has been living in a 
very hot-bed of superstition ! " 

"The cold, dreary Lincolnshire coast! I think it 
would take a good deal of zeal to warm me, even if it was 
superstition." 

"And she was in a convent after her mother died! 
Yes, she is pretty sure to be a Papist. It seems rather 
queer that second-cousin Charles should have remem 
bered her in his will." 

" But Charles was his namesake and nephew, the child 
of his favorite sister," interposed Mrs. Leverett, glancing 
deprecatingly at Betty, pleading with the most beseech- 



2 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

ing eyes that she should not ruffle Aunt Priscilla up the 
wrong way. 

" But what is that old ma'shland good for, anyway? " 
asked Aunt Priscilla. 

"Why they are filling in and building docks," said 
Betty the irrepressible. " Father thinks by the time she 
is grown it will be a handsome fortune." 

Aunt Priscilla gave a queer sound that was not a sniff, 
but had a downward tendency, as if it was formed of in 
harmonious consonants. It expressed both doubt and 
disapproval. 

" But think of the expense and the taxes! You can't 
put a bit of improvement on anything but the taxes eat 
it up. I want my hall door painted, and the cornishes," 
Aunt Priscilla always would pronounce it that way, 
" but I mean to wait until the assessor has been round. 
It's the best time to paint in cool weather, too. I can't 
afford to pay a man for painting and then pay the city 
for the privilege." 

No one controverted Mrs. Perkins. She broke off 
her bread in bits and sipped her tea. 

" Why didn't they give her some kind of a Christian 
name? " she began suddenly. " Don't you suppose it 
is French for the plain, old-fashioned, sensible name of 
Dorothy? " 

Betty laughed. " Oh, Aunt Priscilla, it's pure Greek. 
Doris and Phyllis and Chloe " 

" Phyllis and Chloe are regular nigger names," with 
the utmost disdain. 

" But Greek, all the same. Ask Uncle Winthrop." 

"Well, I shall call her Dorothy. I'm neither Greek 
nor Latin nor a college professor. There's no law 
against my being sensible, fursisee " which really 
meant " far as I see." " And the idea of appointing 
Winthrop Adams her guardian! I did think second- 



DORIS. 3 

cousin Charles had more sense. Winthrop thinks of 
nothing but books and going back to the Creation of the 
World, just as if the Lord couldn't have made things 
straight in the beginning without his help. I dare say 
he will find out what language they talked before the 
dispersion of Babel. People are growing so wise now 
adays, turning the Bible inside out! " and she gave her 
characteristic sniff. " I'll have another cup of tea, Eliza 
beth. Now that we're through with the war, and settled 
solid-like with a President at the helm, we can look 
forward to something permanent, and comfort ourselves 
that it was worth trying for. Still, I've often thought of 
that awful waste of tea in Boston harbor. Seems as 
though they might have done something else with it. 
Tea will keep a good long while. And all that wretched 
ptuff we used to drink and call it Liberty tea! " 

" I don't know as we regret many of the sacrifices, 
though it came harder on the older people. We have a 
good deal to be proud of," said Mrs. Leverett. 

" And a grandfather who was at Bunker Hill," ap 
pended Betty. 

Aunt Priscilla never quite knew where she belonged. 
She had come over with the Puritans, at least her ances 
tors had, but then there had been a title in the English 
branch; and though she scoffed a little, she had great 
respect for royalty, and secretly regretted they had not 
called the head of the government by a more dignified 
appellation than President. Her mother had been a 
Church of England member, but rather austere Mr. 
Adams believed that wives were to submit themselves 
to their husbands in matters of belief as well as aught 
else. Then Priscilla Adams, at the age of nineteen, had 
wedded the man of her father's choice, Hatfield Perkins, 
who was a stanch upholder of the Puritan faith. Pris 
cilla would have enjoyed a little foolish love-making, and 



4 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

she had a carnal hankering for fine gowns; and, oh, how 
she did long to dance in her youth, when she was slim 
and light-footed! 

In spite of all, she had been a true Puritan outwardly, 
and had a little misgiving that the prayers of the Church 
were vain repetitions, the organ wickedly frivolous, and 
the ringing of bells suggestive of popery. There had 
been no children, and a bad fall had lamed her husband 
so that volunteering for a soldier was out of the ques 
tion, but he had assisted with his means ; and some twelve 
years before this left his widow in comfortable circum 
stances for the times. 

She kept to her plain dress, although it was rich; and 
her housemaid was an elderly black woman who had 
been a slave in her childhood. She devoted a good deal 
of thought as to who should inherit her property when 
she was done with it. For those she held in the highest 
esteem were elderly like herself, and the young people 
were flighty and extravagant and despised the good old 
ways of prudence and thrift. 

They were having early tea at Mrs. Leverett's. Aunt 
Priscilla's mother had been half-sister to Mrs. Leverett's 
mother. In the old days of large families nearly every 
one came to be related. It was always very cozy in 
Sudbury Street, and Foster Leverett was in the ship 
chandlery trade. Aunt Priscilla did love a good cup of 
tea. Whether the quality was finer, or there was some 
peculiar art in brewing it, she could never quite decide; 
or whether the social cream of gentle Elizabeth Leverett, 
and the spice of Betty, added to the taste and heightened 
the flavor beyond her solitary cup. 

Early October had already brought chilling airs when 
evening set in. A century or so ago autumn had the 
sharpness of coming winter in the early morning and 
after sundown. There was a cheerful wood fire on the 



DORIS. 5 

hearth, and its blaze lighted the room sufficiently, as the 
red light of the sunset poured through a large double 
window. 

The house had a wide hall through the center that 
was really the keeping-room. The chimney stood about 
halfway down, a great stone affair built out in the room, 
tiled about with Scriptural scenes, with two tiers of 
shelves above, whereon were ranged the family heir 
looms so high, indeed, that a stool had to be used to 
stand on when they were dusted. Just below this began 
a winding staircase with carved spindles and a mahogany 
rail and newel, considered quite an extravagance in that 
day. 

This lower end was the living part. In one of the 
corners was built the buffet, while a door opposite led 
into the wide kitchen. Across the back was a porch 
where shutters were hung in the winter to keep out the 
cold. 

The great dining table was pushed up against the wall. 
The round tea table was set out and the three ladies were 
having their tea, quite a common custom when there was 
a visitor, as the men folk were late coming in and a little 
uncertain. 

On one side the hall opened in two large, well- 
appointed rooms. On the other were the kitchen and 
" mother's room," where, when the children were little, 
there had been a cradle and a trundle bed. But one son 
and two daughters were married; one son was in his 
father's warehouse, and was now about twenty; the next 
baby boy had died; and Betty, the youngest, was sixteen, 
pretty, and a little spoiled, of course. Yet Aunt Priscilla 
had a curious fondness for her, which she insisted to her 
self was very reprehensible, since Betty was such a 
feather-brained girl. 

" It is to be hoped the ship did get in to-day," Aunt 



6 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

Priscilla began presently. " If there's anything I hate, 
it's being on tenterhooks." 

" She was spoken this morning. There's always more 
or less delay with pilots and tides and what not," replied 
Mrs. Leverett. 

"The idea of sending a child like that alone! The 
weather has been fine, but we don't know how it was on 
the ocean." 

" Captain Grier is a friend of Uncle Win's, you know," 
appended Betty. 

" Betty, do try and call your relatives by their proper 
names. An elderly man, too! It does sound so disre 
spectful ! Young folks of to-day seem to have no regard 
for what is due other people. Oh " 

There was a kind of stamping and shuffling on the 
porch, and the door was flung open, letting in a gust of 
autumnal air full of spicy odors from the trees and vines 
outside. Betty sprang up, while her mother followed 
more slowly. There were her father and her brother 
Warren, and the latter had by the hand the little 
girl who had crossed the ocean to come to the famous 
city of the New World, Boston. Almost two hun 
dred years before an ancestor had crossed from old 
Boston, in the ship Arabella, and settled here, taking 
his share of pilgrim hardships. Doris' father, when a 
boy, had been sent back to England to be adopted as 
the heir of a long line. But the old relative married 
and had two sons of his own, though he did well by the 
boy, who went to France and married a pretty French 
girl. After seven years of unbroken happiness the 
sweet young wife had died. Then little Doris, six years 
of age, had spent two years in a convent. From there 
her father had taken her to Lincolnshire and placed 
her with two elderly relatives, while he was planning and 
arranging his affairs to come back to America with his 



DORIS. 7 

little daughter. But one night, being out with a sailing 
party, a sudden storm had caught them and swept them 
out of life in an instant. 

Second-cousin Charles Adams had been in corre 
spondence with him, and advised him to return. Being 
in feeble health, he had included him and his heirs in his 
will, appointing his nephew Winthrop Adams executor, 
and died before the news of the death of his distant rela 
tive had reached him. The Lincolnshire ladies were too 
old to have the care and rearing of a child, so Mr. Win 
throp Adams had sent by Captain Grier to bring over the 
little girl. Her father's estate, not very large, was in 
money and easily managed. And now little Doris was 
nearing ten. 

" Oh! " cried Betty, hugging the slim figure in the red 
camlet cloak, and peering into the queer big hat tied 
down over her ears with broad ribbons that, what with 
the big bow and the wide rim, almost hid her face; but 
she saw two soft lovely eyes and cherry-red lips that she 
kissed at once, though kissing had not come in fashion 
to any great extent, and was still considered by many 
people rather dubious if not positively sinful. 

" Oh, little Doris, welcome to Boston and the United 
Colonies and the whole of America! Let me see how 
you look," and she untied the wide strings. 

The head that emerged was covered with fair curling 
hair; the complexion was clear, but a little wind-burned 
from her long trip; the eyes were very dark, but of the 
deepest, softest blue, that suggested twilight. There was 
a dimple in the dainty chin, and the mouth had a half- 
frightened, half-wistful smile. 

" Captain Grier will send up her boxes to-morrow. 
They got aground and were delayed. I began to think 
they would have to stay out all night. The captain 
will bring up a lot of papers for Winthrop, and every- 



8 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

thing," explained Mr. Leverett. " Are you cold, little 
one?" 

Doris gave a great shiver as her cloak was taken off, 
but it was more nervousness than cold, and the glances 
of the strange faces. Then she walked straight to the 
fireplace. 

" Oh, what a beautiful fire ! " she exclaimed. " No, I 
am not cold " and the wistful expression wandered 
from one to the other. 

" This is my daughter Betty, and this is why, you 
may as well begin by saying Aunt Elizabeth at once. 
How are you, Aunt Priscilla? This is our little French- 
English girl, but I hope she will turn into a stanch Bos 
ton girl. Now, mother, let's have a good supper. I'm 
hungry as a wolf." 

Doris caught Betty's hand again and pressed it to her 
cheek. The smiling face won her at once. 

" Did you have a pleasant voyage? " asked Mrs. 
Leverett, as she was piling up the cups and saucers, and 
paused to smile at the little stranger. 

" There were some storms, and I was afraid then. It 
made me think of papa. But there was a good deal of 
sunshine. And I was quite ill at first, but the captain 
was very nice, and Mrs. Jewett had two little girls, so 
after a while we played together. And then I think we 
forgot all about being at sea it was so like a house, 
except there were no gardens or fields and trees." 

Mrs. Leverett went out to the kitchen, and soon there 
was the savory smell of frying sausage. Betty placed 
Doris in a chair by the chimney corner and began to re 
arrange the table. Warren went out to the kitchen and, 
as by the farthest window there was a sort of high bench 
with a tin basin, a pail of water, and a long roller towel, 
he began to wash his face and hands, telling his mother 
meanwhile the occurrences of the last two or three hours. 



DORIS. 9 

Aunt Priscilla drew up her chair and surveyed the 
little traveler with some curiosity. She was rather 
shocked that the child was not dressed in mourning, and 
now she discovered that her little gown was of brocaded 
silk and much furbelowed, at which she frowned severely. 

True, her father had been dead more than a year; but 
her being an orphan made it seem as if she should still 
be in the depths of woe. And she had earrings and a 
brooch in the lace tucker. She gave her sniff it was 
very wintry and contemptuous. 

" I suppose that's the latest French fashion," she said 
sharply. " If I lived in England I should just despise 
French clothes." 

"Oh," said Doris, "do you mean my gown? Miss 
Arabella made it for me. When she was a young lady 
she went up to London to see the king crowned, and they 
had a grand ball, and this was one of the gowns she had 
not the ball dress, for that was white satin with roses 
sprinkled over it. She's very old now, and she gave that 
to her cousin for a wedding dress. And she made this 
over for me. I got some tar on my blue stuff gown 
yesterday, and the others were so thin Mrs. Jewett 
thought I had better put on this, but it is my very best 
gown." 

The artless sincerity and the soft sweet voice quite 
nonplused Aunt Priscilla. Then Warren returned and 
dropped on a three-cornered stool standing there, and 
almost tilted over. 

" Now, if I had gone into the fire, like any other green 
log, how I should have sizzled! " he said laughingly. 

" Oh, I am so glad you didn't! " exclaimed Doris in 
affright. Then she smiled softly. 

" Does it seem queer to be on land again? " 

" Yes. I want to rock to and fro." She made a pretty 
movement with her slender body, and nodded her head. 



io A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

" Are you very tired? " 

" Oh, no." 

" You were out five weeks." 

" Is that a long while? I was homesick at first. I 
wanted to see Miss Arabella and Barby. Miss Henrietta 
is is not right in her mind, if you can understand. 
And she is very old. She just sits in her chair all day 
and mumbles. She was named for a queen Henrietta 
Maria." 

Aunt Priscilla gave a disapproving sniff. 

" Supper's ready," said Mr. Leverett. " Come." 

Warren took the small stranger by the hand, and she 
made a little courtesy, quite as if she were a grown lady. 

" What an airy little piece of vanity! " thought Aunt 
Priscilla. " And whatever will Winthrop Adams do with 
her, and no woman about the house to train her! " 

Betty came and poured tea for her father and War 
ren. Mr. Leverett piled up her plate, but, although the 
viands had an appetizing fragrance, Doris was not hun 
gry. Everything was so new and strange, and she could 
not get the motion of the ship out of her head. But the 
pumpkin pie was delicious. She had never tasted any 
thing like it. 

" You'll soon be a genuine Yankee girl," declared 
Warren. " Pumpkin pie is the test." 

Mr. Leverett and his son did full justice to the supper. 
Then he had to go out to a meeting. There were some 
clouds drifting over the skies of the new country, and 
many discussions as to future policy. 

"So, Aunt Priscilla, I'll beau you home," said he; 
" unless you have a mind to stay all night, or want a 
young fellow like Warren." 

" You're plenty old enough to be sensible, Foster 
Leverett," she returned sharply. She would have en 
joyed a longer stay and was curious about the newcomer, 



DORIS. ii 

but when Betty brought her hat and shawl she said a 
stiff good-night to everybody and went out with her 
escort. 

Betty cleared away the tea things, wiped the dishes 
for her mother and then took a place beside Warren, who 
was very much interested in hearing the little girl talk. 
There was a good deal of going back and forth to Eng 
land although the journey seemed so long, but it was 
startling to have a child sitting by the fireside, here in his 
father's house, who had lived in both France and England. 
She had an odd little accent, too, but it gave her an added 
daintiness. She remembered her convent life very well, 
and her stay in Paris with her father. It seemed strange 
to him that she could talk so tranquilly about her 
parents, but there had been so many changes in her short 
life, and her father had been away from her so much! 

" It always seemed to me as if he must come back 
again," she said with a serious little sigh, " as if he was 
over in France or down in London. It is so strange to 
have anyone go away forever that I think you can't take 
it in somehow. And Miss Arabella was always so good. 
She said if she had been younger she should never have 
agreed to my coming. And all papa's relatives were 
here, and someone who wrote to her and settled about 
the journey." 

She glanced up inquiringly. 

" Yes. That's Uncle Winthrop Adams. He isn't an 
own uncle, but it seems somehow more respectful to call 
him uncle. Mr. Adams would sound queer. And he 
will be your guardian." 

" A guardian? " 

" Well, he has the care of the property left to your 
father. There is a house that is rented, and a great plot 
of ground. Cousin Charles owned so much land, and 
he never was married, so it had to go round to the 



iz A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

cousins. He was very fond of your father as a little boy. 
And Uncle Winthrop seems the proper person to take 
charge of you." 

Doris sighed. She seemed always being handed from 
one to another. 

She was sitting on the stool now, and when Betty 
slipped into the vacant chair she put her arm over the 
child's shoulder in a caressing manner. 

" Do you mean that I would have to go and live 
with him?" she asked slowly. 

Warren laughed. " I declare I don't know what 
Uncle Win would do with a little girl! Miss Recom 
pense Gardiner keeps the house, and she's as prim as 
the crimped edge of an apple pie. And there is only 
Gary." 

" Gary is at Harvard at college," explained Betty. 
" And, then, he is going to Europe for a tour. Uncle 
Win teaches some classes, and is a great Greek and Latin 
scholar, and translates from the poets, and reads and 
studies is a regular bookworm. His wife has been 
dead ever since Gary was a baby." 

" I wish I could stay here," said Doris, and, reaching 
up, she clasped her arms around Betty's neck. " I like 
your father, and your mother has such a sweet voice, 
and you and him," nodding her head over to Warren. 
" And since that the other lady doesn't live here " 

" Aunt Priscilla," laughed Betty. " I think she im 
proves on acquaintance. Her bark is worse than her 
bite. When I was a little girl I thought her just awful, 
and never wanted to go there. Now I quite like it. I 
spend whole days with her. But I shouldn't spend a 
night in praying that Providence would send her to live 
with us. I'd fifty times rather have you, you dear little 
midget. And, when everything is settled, I am of the 
opinion you will live with us, for a while at least." 



DORIS. 13 

" I shall be so glad," in a joyous, relieved tone. 

" Then if Uncle Win should ask you, don't be afraid 
of anybody, but just say you want to stay here. That 
will settle it unless he thinks you ought to go to school. 
But there are nice enough schools in Boston. And I 
am glad you want to stay. I've wished a great many 
times that I had a little sister. I have two, married. 
One lives over at Salem and one ever so far away at 
Hartford. And I am Aunt Betty. I have five nephews 
and four nieces. And you never can have any, you soli 
tary little girl ! " 

" I think I don't mind if I can have you." 

" This is love at first sight. I've never been in love 
before, though I have some girl friends. And being in 
love means living with someone and wanting them all 
the time, and a lot of sweet, foolish stuff. What a silly 
girl I am! Well you are to be my little sister." 

Oh, how sweet it was to find home and affection and 
welcome! Doris had not thought much about it, but 
now she was suddenly, unreasonably glad. She laid her 
head down on Betty's knee and looked at the dancing 
flames, the purples and misty grays, the scarlets and 
blues and greens, all mingling, then sending long arrowy 
darts that ran back and hid behind the logs before you 
could think. 

Mrs. Leverett kneaded her bread and stirred up her 
griddle cakes for morning. It was early in the season to 
start with them, but with the first cold whiff Mr. Leverett 
began to beg for them. Then she fixed her fire, turned 
down her sleeves, took off the big apron that covered all 
her skirt, and rejoined the three by the fireside. 

" That child has gone fast asleep," she exclaimed, look 
ing at her. " Poor thing, I dare say she is all tired out! 
And, man-like, your father never thought of her night 
gown or anything to put on in the morning, and that 



14 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

silk is nothing for a child to wear. I saw that it shocked 
Aunt Priscilla." 

" And she told the story of it so prettily. It is a lovely 
thing and to think it has been to London to see the 
king!" 

" You must take her in your bed, Betty." 

" Oh, of course. Mother, don't you suppose Uncle 
Win will consent to her staying here? I want her." 

" It would be a good thing for you to have someone 
to look after, Betty. It would help steady you and give 
you some sense of responsibility. The youngest child 
always gets spoiled. Your father was speaking of it. I 
can't imagine a child in Uncle Winthrop's household." 

Betty laughed. " Nor in Aunt Priscilla's," she ap 
pended. 

" Poor little thing! How pretty she is. And what a 
long journey to take and to come among strangers! 
Yes, she must go to bed at once." 

" I'll carry her upstairs," said Warren. 

" Nonsense ! " protested his mother. 

But he did for all that, and when he laid her on Betty's 
cold bed she roused and smiled, and suffered herself to 
be made ready for slumber. Then she slipped down on 
her knees, and said " Our Father in Heaven " in soft, 
sleepy French. Her mother had taught her that. And 
in English she repeated: 

" Now I lay me down to sleep," in remembrance of her 
father, and kissed Betty. But she had hardly touched 
the pillow when she was asleep again in her new home, 
Boston. 



IN A NEW HOME. 15 

CHAPTER II. 

IN A NEW HOME. 

HP HE sun was shining when Doris opened her eyes, 
and she rubbed them to make sure she was not 
dreaming. There was no motion, and her bed was so 
soft and wide. She sat up straight, half-startled, and 
she seemed in a well of fluffy feathers. There were two 
white curtained windows and a straight splint chair at 
each one, with a queer little knob on the top of the post 
that suggested a sprite from some of the old legends she 
had been used to hearing. 

What enchantment had transported her thither? Oh, 
yes she had been brought to Cousin Leverett's, she 
remembered now; and, oh, how sleepy she had been last 
night as she sat by the warm, crackling fire! 

"Well, little Doris!" exclaimed a fresh, wholesome 
voice, with a laughing sound back of it. 

" Oh, you are Betty! It is like a dream. I could not 
think where I was at first. And this bed is so high. It's 
like Miss Arabella's with the curtains around it. And 
at home I had a little pallet just a low, straight bed al 
most like a bench, with no curtains. You slept here with 
me?" 

" Yes. It is my bed and my room. And it was de 
lightful to have you last night. I think you never 
stirred. My niece Elizabeth was here in the summer 
from Salem, and after two nights I turned her out she 
kicked unmercifully, and I couldn't endure it. Now, do 
you want to get up? " 

" Oh, yes. Must I jump out or just slip." 

" Here is a stool." 

But Doris had slipped and come down on a rug of 



16 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

woven rags almost as soft as Persian pile. Her night 
dress fell about her in a train; it was Betty's, and she 
looked like a slim white wraith. 

" Now I will help you dress. Here is a gown of mine 
that I outgrew when I was a little girl, and it was so nice 
mother said it should be saved for Elizabeth. We call 
her that because my other sister Electa has a daughter 
she calls Bessy. They are both named after mother. 
And so am I, but I have always been called Betty. So 
many of one name are confusing. But yours is so pretty 
and odd. I never knew a girl called Doris." 

" I am glad you like it," said Doris simply. " It was 
papa's choice. My mother's name was Jacqueline." 

" That is very French." 

" And that is my name, too. But Doris is easier to 
say." 

Betty had been helping her dress. The blue woolen 
gown was not any too long, but, oh, it was worlds too 
wide! They both laughed. 

" I wasn't such a slim little thing. See here, I will 
pin a plait over in front, and that will help it. Now that 
does nicely. And you must be choice of that beautiful 
brocade. What a pity that you will outgrow it! It 
would make such a splendid gown when you go 
to parties. I've never had a silk gown," and Betty 
sighed. 

They went downstairs. It would seem queer enough 
now to attend to one's toilet in the corner of the 
kitchen, but it was quite customary then. In Mrs. Lev- 
erett's room there were a washing stand with a white 
cloth, and a china bowl and ewer in dark blue flowers on a 
white ground, picked out with gilt edges. The bowl had 
scallops around the edge, and the ewer was tall and slim. 
There were a soap dish and a small pitcher, and they 
looked beautiful on the thick white cloth, that was fringed 



IN A NEW HOME. 17 

all around. It had been brought over from England by 
Mrs. Leverett's grandmother, and was esteemed very 
highly, and had been promised to Betty for her name. 
But Mrs. Leverett would have considered it sacrilege to 
use it. 

It is true, many houses now began to have wash 
rooms, which were very nice in summer, but of small ac 
count in winter, when the water froze so easily, unless 
you could have a fire. 

When people sigh for the good old times they forget 
the hardships and the inconveniences. 

Doris brushed out her hair and curled it in a twin 
kling; then she had some breakfast. Mrs. Leverett was 
baking bread and making pies and a large cake full of 
raisins that Betty had seeded, which went by the name of 
election cake. 

The kitchen was a great cheery place with some sunny 
windows and a big oven built at one side, a capacious 
working table, a dresser, some wooden chairs, and a yel 
low-painted floor. The kitchen opened into mother's 
room as well as the hall. 

Doris sat and watched both busy women. At Miss 
Arabella's they had an old serving maid and the kitchen 
was not a place of tidiness and beauty. It had a hard 
dirt floor, and Barby sat out of doors in the sunshine to 
do whatever work she could take out there, and often 
washed and dried her dishes when the weather was 
pleasant. 

But here the houses were close enough to smile at each 
other. After the great spaces these yards seemed small, 
but there were trees and vines, and Mrs. Leverett had 
quite a garden spot, where she raised all manner of sweet 
herbs and some vegetables. Mr. Leverett had a shop 
over on Ann Street, and attended steadily to his business, 
early and late, as men did at that time. 



i8 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

The dining table was set out at noon, and soon after 
twelve o'clock the two men made their appearance. 

" Let me look at you," said Mr. Leverett, taking both 
of Doris' small hands. " I hardly saw you yesterday. 
You were buried in that big hat, and it was getting so 
dark. You have not much Adams about you, neither do 
you look French." 

" Miss Arabella always said I looked like papa. There 
is a picture of him in my box. He had dark-blue eyes." 

" Well, yours would pass for black. Do they snap 
when you get out of temper? " 

Doris colored and cast them down. 

" Don't tease her," interposed Mrs. Leverett. " She 
is not going to get angry. It is a bad thing for little 
girls." 

" I don't remember much of anything about your 
father. Both of your aunts are dead. You have one 
cousin somewhere Margaret's husband married and 
went South to Virginia, didn't he? Well, there is no 
end of Adams connection even if some of them have 
different names. Captain Grier dropped into the ware 
house with a tin box of papers, and your things are to be 
sent this afternoon. He is coming up this evening, and 
I've sent for Uncle Win to come over to supper. Then 
I suppose the child's fate will be settled, and she'll be a 
regular Boston girl." 

" I do wonder if Uncle Win will let her stay here? 
Mother and I have decided that it is the best place." 

" Do you think it a good place? " 

He turned so suddenly to Doris that her face was scar 
let with embarrassment. 

" It's splendid," she said when she caught her breath. 
" I should like to stay. And Aunt Elizabeth will teach 
me to make pies." 

"Well, pies are pretty good things, according to my 



IN A NEW HOME. 19 

way of thinking. There's lots for little girls to learn, 
though I dare say Uncle Win will think it can all come 
out of a book." 

" Some of it might come out of a cookbook," said 
Betty demurely. 

" Your mother's the best cookbook I know about 
good enough for anyone." 

" But we can't send mother all round the world." 

" We just don't want to," said Warren. 

Mrs. Leverett smiled. She was proud of her ability in 
the culinary line. 

Mr. Leverett looked at Doris presently. " Come, 
come," he began good-naturedly, " this will never do ! 
You are not eating enough to keep a bird alive. No 
wonder you are so thin ! " 

" But I ate a great deal of breakfast," explained Doris 
with naive honesty. 

" And you are not homesick? " 

Doris thought a moment. " I don't want to go away, 
if that is what you mean." 

" Yes, that's about it," nodding humorously. 

Warren thought her the quaintest, prettiest child he 
had ever seen, but he hardly knew what to say to her. 

When the men had eaten and gone the dishes were 
soon washed up, and then mother and daughter brought 
their sewing. Mrs. Leverett was mending Warren's 
coat. Betty darned a small pile of stockings, and then 
she took out some needlework. She had begun her 
next summer's white gown, and she meant to do it by 
odd spells, especially when Aunt Priscilla, who would 
lecture her on so much vanity, was not around. 

Mrs. Leverett gently questioned Doris she was not 
an aggressive woman, nor unduly curious. No, Doris 
had not sewed much. Barby always darned the stock 
ings, and Miss Easter had come to make whatever 



20 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

clothes she needed. She used to go to Father Lang- 
horne and recite, and Mrs. Leverett wondered whether 
she and the father both were Roman Catholics. What 
did she study? Oh, French and a little Latin, and she 
was reading history and " Paradise Lost," but she didn't 
like sums, and she could make pillow lace. Miss Ara 
bella made beautiful pillow lace, and sometimes the 
grand ladies came in carriages and paid her ever so much 
money for it. 

And presently dusk began to mingle with the golden 
touches of sunset, and Mrs. Leverett went to make bis 
cuit and fry some chicken, and Uncle Winthrop came at 
the same moment that a man on a dray brought an old- 
fashioned chest and carried it upstairs to Betty's room. 
But Betty had already attired Doris in her silk gown. 

Doris liked Uncle Winthrop at once, although he was 
so different from Uncle Leverett, who wore all around 
his face a brownish-red beard that seemed to grow out of 
his neck, and had tumbled hair and a somewhat weather- 
beaten face. Mr. Winthrop Adams was two good inches 
taller and stood up very straight in spite of his being a 
bookworm. His complexion was fair and rather pale, 
his features were of the long, slender type, which his 
beard, worn in the Vandyke style, intensified. His hair 
was light and his eyes were a grayish blue, and he had a 
refined and gentle expression. 

" So this is our little traveler," he said. " Your father 
was somewhat older, perhaps, when we bade him good- 
by, but I have often thought of him. We corresponded 
a little off and on. And I am glad to be able to do all 
that I can for his child." 

Doris glanced up, feeling rather shy, and wondering 
what she ought to say, but in the next breath Betty had 
said it all, even to declaring laughingly that as Doris had 
come to them they meant to keep her. 



IN A NEW HOME. *i 

" Doris," he said softly. " Doris. You have a poet 
ical name. And you are poetical-looking." 

She wondered what the comparison meant. " Para 
dise Lost " was so grand it tired her. Oh, there was 
the old volume of Percy's " Reliques." Did he mean 
like some of the sweet little things in that? Miss 
Arabella had said it wasn't quite the thing for a child to 
read, and had taken it away until she grew older. 

Uncle Winthrop took her hand again a small, slim 
hand; and his was slender as well. No real physical 
work had hardened it. He dropped into the high- 
backed chair beside the fireplace, and, putting his arm 
about her, drew her near to his side. Uncle Leverett 
would have taken her on his knee if he had been 
moved by an impulse like that, but he was used to 
children and grandchildren, and the bookish man 
was not. 

" It is a great change to you," he said in his low tone, 
which had a fascination for her. " Was Miss Arabella 
were there any young people in the old Lincolnshire 
house?" 

" Oh, no. Miss Henrietta was very, very old, but then 
she had lost her mind and forgotten everybody. And 
Miss Arabella had snowy white hair and a sweet 
wrinkled face." 

" Did you go to school ? " 

" There wasn't any school except a dame's school for 
very little children. I used to go twice a week to Father 
Langhorne and read and write and do sums." 

" Then we will have to educate you. Do you think 
you would like to go to school? " 

" I don't know." She hung her head a little, and it 
gave her a still more winsome expression. There was 
an indescribable charm about her. 

" What did you read with this father? " 



22 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

" We read ' Paradise Lost ' and some French. And I 
had begun Latin." 

Winthrop Adams gave a soft, surprised whistle. By 
the firelight he looked her over critically. Prodigies 
were not to his taste, and a girl prodigy would be an ab 
horrence. But her face had a sweet unconcern that re 
assured him. 

" And did you like it ' Paradise Lost '? " 
" I think I did not," returned Doris with hesitating 
frankness. " I liked the verses in Percy's ' Reliques ' 
better. I like verses that rhyme, that you can sing 
to yourself." 

"Ah! And how about the sums?" 

" I didn't like them at all. But Miss Arabella said the 

right things were often hard, and the easy things " 

" Well, what is the fault of the easy things that we all 
like, and ought not to like? " 

" They were not so good for anyone though I don't 
see why. They are often very pleasant." 

He laughed then, but some intuition told her he liked 
pleasant things as well. 

" What do you do in such a case? " 
" I did the sums. It was the right thing to do. And 
I studied Latin, though Miss Arabella said it was of no 
use to a girl." 

" And the French? " 

" Oh, I learned French when I was very little and had 
mamma, and when I was in the convent, too. But papa 
talked English, so I had them both. Isn't it strange that 
afterward you have to learn so much about them, and 
how to make right sentences, and why they are right. 
It seems as if there were a great many things in the 
world to learn. Betty doesn't know half of them, and 

she's as sweet as Oh, I think the wisest person in 

the world couldn't be any sweeter." 



IN A NEW HOME. 23 

Winthrop Adams smiled at the eager reasoning. 
Betty was a bright, gay girl. What occult quality was 
sweetness? And Doris had been in a convent. That 
startled him the first moment. The old strict bitterness 
and narrowness of Puritanism had been softened and re 
fined away. The people who had banished Quakers had 
for a long while tolerated Roman Catholics. He had 
known Father Matignon, and enjoyed the scholarly and 
well-trained John Cheverus, who had lately been con 
secrated bishop. The Protestants had even been gener 
ous to their brethren of another faith when they were 
building their church. As for himself he was a rather 
stiff Church of England man, if he could be called stiff 
about anything. 

" And did you like the convent? " he asked, after a 
pause, in which he generously made up his mind he 
would not interfere with her religious belief. 

" It's so long ago " with a half-sigh. " I was very sad 
at first, and missed mamma. Papa had to go away 
somewhere and couldn't take me. Yes, I liked sister 
Therese very much. Mamma was a Huguenot, you 
know." 

" You see, I really do not know anything about her, 
and have known very little about your father since he 
was a small boy." 

" A small boy! How queer that seems," and she gave 
a tender, rippling laugh. " Then you can tell me about 
him. He used to come to the convent once in a while, 
and when he was ready to go to England he took me. 
Yes, I was sorry to leave Sister Therese and Sister Clare. 
There were some little girls, too. And then we went to 
Lincolnshire. Miss Arabella was very nice, and Barby 
was so queer and funny at first I could hardly under 
stand her. And then we went to a pretty little church 
where they didn't count beads nor pray to the Virgin 



24 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

nor Saints. But it was a good deal like. It was the 
Church of England. I suppose it had to be different 
from the Church of France." 

" Yes." He drew her a little closer. That was a 
bond of sympathy between them. And just then Uncle 
Leverett and Warren came in, and there was a shaking 
of hands, and Uncle Leverett said: 

" Well, I declare ! The sight of you, Win, is good for 
sore eyes well ones, too." 

" I am rather remiss in a social way, I must confess. 
I'll try to do better. The years fly around so, I have 
always felt sorry that I saw so little of Cousin Charles 
until that last sad year." 

" It takes womenkind to keep up sociability. Charles 
and you might as well have been a couple of old 
bachelors." 

Uncle Win gave his soft half-smile, which was really 
more of an indication than a smile. 

" Come to supper now," said Mrs. Leverett. 

Doris kept hold of Uncle Win's hand until she 
reached her place. He went around to the other side of 
the table. She decided she liked him very much. She 
liked almost everybody: the captain had been so friendly, 
and Mrs. Jewett and some of the ladies on board the 
vessel so kind. But Betty and Uncle Win went to the 
very first place with her. 

The elders had all the conversation, and it seemed 
about some coming trouble to the country that she did 
not understand. She knew there had been war in France 
and various other European countries. Little girls were 
not very well up in geography in those days, but they did 
learn a good deal listening to their elders. 

They were hardly through supper when Captain Grier 
came with the very japanned box papa had brought over 
from France and placed in Miss Arabella's care. His 



IN A NEW HOME. 25 

name was on it " Charles Winthrop Adams." Oh, 
and that was Uncle Win's name, too! Surely, 
they were relations! Doris experienced a sense of 
gladness. 

Betty brought out a table standing against the wain 
scot. You touched a spring underneath, and the cir 
cular side came up and made a flat top. The captain 
took a small key out of a curious long leathern purse, 
and Uncle Win unlocked the box and spread out the 
papers. There was the marriage certificate of Jacqueline 
Marie de la Maur and Charles Winthrop Adams, and the 
birth and baptismal record of Doris Jacqueline de la 
Maur Adams, and ever so many other records and 
letters. 

Mr. Winthrop Adams gave the captain a receipt for 
them, and thanked him cordially for all his care and at 
tention to his little niece. 

" She was a pretty fair sailor after the first week," said 
the captain with a twinkle in his eye. He was very much 
wrinkled and weather-beaten, but jolly and good- 
humored. " And now, sissy, I'm glad you're safe with 
your folks, and I hope you'll grow up into a nice clever 
woman. 'Taint no use wishin' you good looks, for 
you're purty as a pink now one of them rather palish 
kind. But you'll soon have red cheeks." 

Doris had very red cheeks for a moment. Betty 
leaned over to her brother, and whispered: 

" What a splendid opportunity lost! Aunt Priscilla 
ought to be here to say, ' Handsome is as handsome 
does.' " 

Then Captain Grier shook hands all round and took 
his departure. 

Afterward the two men discussed business about the 
little girl. There must be another trustee, and papers 
must be taken out for guardianship. They would go to 



26 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

the court-house, say at eleven to-morrow, and put every 
thing in train. 

Betty took out some knitting. It was a stocking of 
fine linen thread, and along the instep it had a pretty 
openwork pattern that was like lace work. 

" That is to wear with slippers," she explained to 
Doris. " But it's a sight of work. 'Lecty had six pairs 
when she was married. That's my second sister, Mrs. 
King. She lives in Hartford. I want to go and make 
her a visit this winter." 

Mrs. Leverett's stocking was of the more useful kind, 
blue-gray yarn, thick and warm, for her husband's win 
ter wear. She did not have to count stitches and make 
throws, and take up two here and three there. 

" Warren," said his mother, when he had poked the 
fire until she was on ' pins and needles,' they didn't call 
it nervous then, " Warren, I am 'most out of corn. I 
wish you'd go shell some." 

" The hens do eat an awful lot, seems to me. Why, I 
shelled only a few nights ago." 

" I touched bottom when I gave them the last feed this 
afternoon. By spring we won't have so many," nodding 
in a half-humorous fashion. 

" Don't you want to come out and see me? You don't 
have any Indian corn growing in England, I've heard." 

" Did it belong to the Indians? " asked Doris. 

" I rather guess it did, in the first instance. But now 
we plant it for ourselves. We don't, because father sold 
the two-acre lot, and they're bringing a street through. 
So now we have only the meadow." 

Doris looked at the uncles, but she couldn't under 
stand a word they were saying. 

" Come! " Warren held out his hand. 

" Put the big kitchen apron round her, Warren," said 
Betty, thinking of her silk gown. 



IN A NEW HOME. 27 

He tied the apron round her neck and brought back 
the strings round her waist, so she was all covered. 
Then he found her a low chair, and poked the kitchen 
fire, putting on a pine log to make a nice blaze. He 
brought out from the shed a tub and a basket of ears of 
corn. Across the tub he laid the blade of an old saw and 
then sat on the end to keep it firm. 

" Now you'll see business. Maybe you've never seen 
any corn before?" 

She looked over in the basket, and then took up an 
ear with a mysterious expression. 

" It won't bite you," he said laughingly. 

" But how queer and hard, with all these little points," 
pinching them with her dainty fingers. 

" Grains," he explained. " And a husk grows on the 
outside to keep it warm. When the winter is going to 
be very cold the husk is very thick." 

"Will this winter be cold?" 

" Land alive ! yes. Winters always are cold." 

Warren settled himself and drew the ear across the 
blade. A shower of corn rattled down on the bottom of 
the tub. 

" Oh! is that the way you peel it off? " 

He threw his head back and laughed. 

" Oh, you Englisher! We shell it off." 

" Well, it peels too. You peel a potato and an 
apple with a knife blade. Oh, what a pretty white 
core!" 

" Cob. We Americans are adding new words to the 
language. A core has seeds in it. There, see how soft 
it is." 

Doris took it in her hand and then laid her cheek 
against it. " Oh, how soft and fuzzy it is!" she cried. 
"And what do you do with it?" 

" We don't plant that part of it. That core has no 



a8 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

seeds. You have to plant a grain like this. The little 
clear point we call a heart, and that sprouts and grows. 
This is a good use for the cob." 

He had finished another, which he tossed into the fire. 
A bright blaze seemed to run over it all at once and die 
down. Then the small end flamed out and the fire crept 
along in a doubtful manner until it was all covered again. 

" They're splendid to kindle the fire with. And pine 
cones. America has lots of useful things." 

" But they burn cones in France. I like the spicy 
smell. It's queer though," wrinkling her forehead. 
" Did the Indians know about corn the first? " 

" That is the general impression unless America was 
settled before the Indians. Uncle Win has his head full 
of these things and is writing a book. And there is 
tobacco that Sir Walter Raleigh carried home from 
Virginia." 

" Oh, I know about Sir Walter and Queen Elizabeth." 

" He was a splendid hero. I think people are grow 
ing tame now; there are no wars except Indian skir 
mishes." 

" Why, Napoleon is fighting all the time." 

" Oh, that doesn't count," declared the young man 
with a lofty air. " We had some magnificent heroes in 
the Revolution. There are lots of places for you to see. 
Bunker Hill and Lexington and Concord and the head 
quarters of Washington and Lafayette. The French 
were real good to us, though we have had some scrim 
mages with them. And now that you are to be a Bos 
ton girl " 

" But I was in Old Boston before," and she laughed. 
" Very old Boston, that is so far back no one can remem 
ber, and it was called Ikanhoe, which means Boston. 
There is the old church and the abbey that St. Botolph 
founded. They came over somewhere in six hundred, 



AUNT PRISCILLA. 29 

and were missionaries from France St. Botolph and his 
brother." 

"Whew!" ejaculated Warren with a long whistle, 
looking up at the little girl as if she were hundreds of 
years old. 

Betty opened the door. " Uncle Win is going," she 
announced. " Come and say good-by to him." 

He was standing up with the box of papers in his hand, 
and saying: 

" I must have you all over to tea some night, and 
Doris must come and see my old house. And I have a 
big boy like Warren. Yes, we must be a little more 
friendly, for life is short at the best. And you are to stay 
here a while with good Cousin Elizabeth, and I hope you 
will be content and happy." 

She pressed the hand Uncle Win held out in both of 
hers. In all the changes she had learned to be content, 
and she had a certain adaptiveness that kept her from 
being unhappy. She was very glad she was going to 
stay with Betty, and glanced up with a bright smile. 

They all said good-night to Cousin Adams. Mr. 
Leverett turned the great key in the hall door, and it 
gave a shriek. 

" I must oil that lock to-morrow. It groans enough 
to raise the dead," said Mrs. Leverett. 



CHAPTER III. 

AUNT PRISCILLA. 

HP HERE was quite a discussion about a school. 
Uncle Win had an idea Doris ought to begin high 
up in the scale. For really she was very well born on 
both sides. Her father had left considerable money, 
and in a few years second-cousin Charles' bequest might 



3 o A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

be quite valuable, if Aunt Priscilla did sniff over it 
There was Mrs. Rawson's. 

" But that is mostly for young ladies, a kind of finish 
ing school. And in some things Doris is quite behind, 
while in others far advanced. There will be time enough 
for accomplishments. And Mrs. Webb's is near by, 
which will be an object this cold winter." 

" I shouldn't like her to forget her French. And 
perhaps it would be as well to go on with Latin," Cousin 
Adams said. 

Mrs. Leverett was a very sensible woman, but she 
really did not see the need of Latin for a girl. There 
was a kind of sentiment about French; it had been her 
mother's native tongue, and one did now and then go to 
France. 

There had been a good deal of objection to even the 
medium education of women among certain classes. 
The three " R's " had been considered all that was neces 
sary. And when the system of public education had 
been first inaugurated it was thought quite sufficient for 
girls to go from April to October. Good wives and 
good mothers was the ideal held up to girls. But people 
were beginning to understand that ignorance was not 
always goodness. Mrs. Rawson had done a great deal 
toward the enlightenment of this subject. The pioneer 
days were past, unless one was seized with a mania for 
the new countries. 

Mrs. Leverett was secretly proud of her two married 
daughters. Mrs. King's husband had gone to the State 
legislature, and was considered quite a rising politician. 
Mrs. Manning was a farmer's wife and held in high 
esteem for the management of her family. Betty was 
being inducted now into all household accomplishments 
with the hope that she would marry quite as well as her 
sisters. She was a good reader and speller; she had a 



AUNT PRISCILLA. 31 

really fine manuscript arithmetic, in which she had writ 
ten the rules and copied the sums herself. She had a 
book of " elegant extracts " ; she also wrote down the text 
of the Sunday morning sermon and what she could re 
member of it. She knew the difference between the 
Puritans and the Pilgrims; she also knew how the thir 
teen States were settled and by whom; she could answer 
almost any question about the French, the Indian, and 
the Revolutionary wars. She could do fine needlework 
and the fancy stitches of the day. She was extremely 
" handy " with her needle. Mrs. Leverett called her a 
very well-educated girl, and the Leveretts considered 
themselves some of the best old stock in Boston, if they 
were not much given to show. 

It might be different with Doris. But a good husband 
was the best thing a girl could have, in Mrs. Leverett's 
estimation, and knowing how to make a good home her 
greatest accomplishment. 

They looked over Doris' chest and found some simple 
gowns, mostly summer ones, pairs of fine stockings that 
had been cut down and made over by Miss Arabella's 
dainty fingers, and underclothes of a delicate quality. 
There were the miniatures of her parents that of her 
mother very girlish indeed and a few trinkets and 
books. 

" She must have two good woolen frocks for winter, 
and a coat," said Mrs. Leverett. " Cousin Winthrop 
said I should buy whatever was suitable." 

" And a little Puritan cap trimmed about with fur. I 
am sure I can make that. And a strip of fur on her 
coat. She would blow away in that big hat if a high 
wind took her," declared Betty. 

" And all the little girls wear them in winter. Still, I 
suppose Old Boston must have been cold and bleak in 
winter." 



32 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

" It was not so nearly an island." 

There was a good deal of work to do on Friday, so 
shopping was put off to the first of the week. Doris 
proved eagerly helpful and dusted very well. In the 
afternoon Aunt Priscilla came over for her cup of tea. 

" Dear me," she began with a great sigh, " I wish I had 
some nice young girl that I could train, and who would 
take an interest in things. Polly is too old. And I 
don't like to send her away, for she was good enough 
when she had any sense. There's no place for her but 
the poorhouse, and I can't find it in my conscience to 
send her there. But I'm monstrous tired of her, and I 
do think I'd feel better with a cheerful young person 
around. You're just fortunate, 'Lizabeth, that you and 
Betty can do for yourselves." 

" It answers, now that the family is small. But last 
year I found it quite trying. And Betty must have her 
two or three years' training at housekeeping." 

" Oh, of course. I'm glad you're so sensible, 'Liza 
beth. Girls are very flighty, nowadays, and are in the 
street half the time, and dancing and frolicking round at 
night. I really don't know what the young generation 
will be good for! " 

Mrs. Leverett smiled. She remembered she had heard 
some such comments when she was young, though the 
lines were more strictly drawn then." 

" Has Winthrop been over to see his charge? How 
does he feel about it? Now, if she had been a boy " 

" He was up to tea last night, and he and Foster 
have been arranging the business this morning. Foster 
is to be joint trustee, but Winthrop will be her guardian." 

" What will he do with a girl ! Why, she'll set Recom 
pense crazy." 

" She is not going to live there. For the present she 
will stay here. She will go to Mrs. Webb's school this 



AUNT PRISCILLA. 33 

winter. He has an idea of sending her to boarding 
school later on." 

" Is she that rich?" asked Aunt Priscilla with a little 
sarcasm. 

" She will have a small income from what her father 
left. Then there is the rent of the house in School 
Street, and some stock. Winthrop thinks she ought to 
be well educated. And if she should ever have to depend 
on herself, teaching seems quite a good thing. Even 
Mrs. Webb makes a very comfortable living." 

" But we're going to educate the community for noth 
ing, and tax the people who have no children to pay 
for it." 

" Well," said Mrs. Leverett with a smile, " that evens 
up matters. But the others, at least property owners, 
have to pay their share. I tell Foster that we ought 
not grudge our part, though we have no children to 
send." 

" How did people get along before? " 

" I went to school until I was fifteen." 

" And when I was twelve I was doing my day's work 
spinning. There's talk that we shall have to come back 
to it. Jonas Field is in a terrible taking. According to 
him war's bound to come. And this embargo is just 
ruining everything. It is to be hoped we will have a 
new President before everything goes." 

" Yes, it is making times hard. But we are learning 
to do a great deal more for ourselves." 

" It behooves us not to waste our money. But Win 
throp Adams hasn't much real calculation. So long as 
he has money to buy books, I suppose he thinks the 
world will go on all right. It's to be hoped Foster will 
look out for the girl's interest a little. But you'll be 
foolish to take the brunt of the thing. Now it would be 
just like you,'Lizabeth Leverett,to take care of this child, 



34 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

without a penny, just as if she was some charity object 
thrown on your hands." 

Mrs. Leverett did give her soft laugh then. 

" You have just hit it, Aunt Priscilla," she said. 
" Winthrop wanted to pay her board, but Foster just 
wouldn't hear to it, this year at least. We have all taken 
a great liking to her, and she is to be our visitor from 
now until summer, when some other plans are to be 
made." 

"Well if you have money to throw away " gasped 

Aunt Priscilla. 

" She won't eat more than a chicken, and she'll sleep in 
Betty's bed. It will help steady Betty and be an interest 
to all of us. I really couldn't think of charging. It's 
like having one of the grandchildren here. And she 
needs a mother's care. Think of the poor little girl with 
not a near relative! Aunt Priscilla, there's a good many 
things money can't buy." 

Aunt Priscilla sniffed. 

" Take off your bonnet and have a cup of tea," Mr. 
Leverett had asked her when she first came in. " It's 
such a long walk back to King Street on an empty 
stomach. The children are making cookies, but Betty 
shall brew a cup of tea at once, unless you'll wait till the 
men folks come in." 

Aunt Priscilla sat severe and undecided for a moment. 
The laughing voices in the other room piqued and vexed 
and interested her all in a breath. She had come over to 
hear about Doris. There was so little interest in her 
methodical old life. Mrs. Leverett sincerely pitied 
women who had no children and no grandchildren. 

" They're quite as queer as old maids without the real 
excuse," she said to her husband. " They've missed the 
best things out of their lives without really knowing 
they were the best." 



AUNT PRISCILLA. 35 

And perhaps at this era more respect was paid to age. 
There were certain trials and duties to life that men and 
women accepted and did not try to evade. A modern 
happy woman would have been bored at the call of a dis 
satisfied old woman every few days. But since the death 
of Mehitable Doule, Priscilla's own cousin, who had been 
married from her house, she had clung more to the 
Leveretts. Foster was too easy-going, otherwise she 
had not much fault to find with him. He had prospered 
and was forehanded, and his married son and daughters 
had been fairly successful. 

" Well, I don't care if I do," said Aunt Priscilla, with 
a half-reluctance. " Though I hadn't decided to when I 
came away, and Polly '11 make a great hole in that cold 
roast pork, for I never said a word as to what she should 
have for supper. She's come to have no more sense 
than a child, and some things are bad to eat at night. 
But if she makes herself sick she'll have to suffer." 

" I'll have some tea made " 

" No, 'Lizabeth, don't fuss. I shan't be in any hurry, 
if I do stay, and the men will be in before long. So 
Winthrop wan't real put out when he saw the girl?" 

" I think he liked her. He's not much hand to make 
a fuss, you know. He feels she must be well brought 
up. Her mother, it seems, was quite quality." 

" Queer the mother's folks didn't look after her." 

" Her mother was an only child. Winthrop has the 
records back several generations. And when she died 
the father was alive, you know." 

" Winthrop is a great stickler for such things. It's 
good to have folks you're not ashamed of, to be sure, but 
family isn't everything. Behaving counts." 

Aunt Priscilla took off her bonnet and shawl, and 
hung them in the " best " closet, where the Sunday coats 
and cloaks were kept. 



36 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

" You might just hand me that knitting, 'Lizabeth. I 
guess I knit a little tighter'n you do, on account of my 
hand being out. I've more than enough stockings to 
last my time out and some coarse ones for Polly. They 
spin yarn so much finer now. Footing many stockings 
this fall?" 

" No. I knit Foster new ones late in the spring. He's 
easy, too. Warren's the one to gnaw out heels, though 
young people are so much on the go." 

Aunt Priscilla took up the stocking and pinned the 
sheath on her side. How gay the voices sounded in the 
kitchen! Then the door opened. 

" Just look, Aunt Elizabeth ! Aren't they lovely ! 
Betty let me cut them out and put them in the pans. 
Oh " 

Doris stood quite abashed, with a dish of tempting 
brown cookies in one hand. Her cheeks were like roses 
now, and Betty's kitchen apron made another frock over 
hers of gay chintz, that had been exhumed from the 
chest. 

" Good-afternoon," recovering herself. 

" The cookies look delightful. I must taste one," 
Mrs. Leverett said smilingly. 

She handed the plate to Aunt Priscilla. 

" It '11 just spoil my supper if I eat one. But you may 
do up some in a paper, and I'll take them home. I'm 
glad to see you at something useful. Did you help 
about the house over there in England? " 

" Oh, no. We had Barby," answered the child simply. 

" Well, there's a deal for you to learn. I made bread 
just after I had turned ten years old. Girls in old times 
learned to work. It wasn't all cooky-making, by a long 
shot!" 

Doris made a little courtesy and disappeared. 

" I'd do something to that tousled hair, 'Lizabeth. 



AUNT PRISCILLA. 37 

Have her put it up or cut it off. It's good to cut a 
girl's hair; makes it thick and strong. And curls do 
look so flighty and frivolous." 

" The new fashion is a wig with all the front in little 
curls. It's so much less trouble if it is made of natural 
curly hair." 

" Are you going to set up for fashion in these hard 
times?" asked the visitor disdainfully. 

" Not quite. But Betty Pickering is to be married in 
great state next month, and we have been invited al 
ready. I suppose I ought to consider her in some sort 
a namesake." 

" I'm glad I haven't any fine relatives to be married," 
and the sniff was made to do duty. 

Mrs. Leverett put down her sewing. She had drawn 
the threads and basted the wristbands and gussets for 
Betty to stitch, as they had come to shirt-making. The 
new ones of thick cotton cloth would be good for winter 
wear. One had always to think ahead in this world if 
one wanted things to come out even. 

Then she went out to the kitchen, and there was a gay 
chattering, as if a colony of chimney swallows had met 
on a May morning. Aunt Priscilla pushed up nearer 
the window. She had good eyesight still, and only wore 
glasses when she read or was doing some extra-fine 
work. 

Betty came in and rolled out the table as she greeted 
her relative. Aunt Priscilla had a curiously lost feeling, 
as if somehow she had gone astray. No one ever would 
know about it, to be sure. There were times when it 
seemed as if there must be a third power, between God 
and the Evil One. There were things neither good nor 
bad. If they were good the Lord brought them to pass, 
or ought to, and if they were bad your conscience 
was troubled. Aunt Priscilla had been elated over her 



38 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

idea all day yesterday. It looked really generous to her. 
Of course Cousin Winthrop couldn't be bothered with 
this little foreign girl, and the Leveretts had a lot of 
grandchildren. She might take this Dorothy Adams, 
and bring her up in a virtuous, useful fashion. She 
would go to school, of course, but there would be nights 
and mornings and Saturdays. In two years, at the latest, 
she would be able to take a good deal of charge of the 
house. All this time her own little fortune could be 
augmenting, interest on interest. And if she turned out 
fair, she would do the handsome thing by her leave her 
at least half of what she, Mrs. Perkins, possessed. 

And yet it was not achieved without a sort of mental 
wrestle. She was not quite sure it was spiritual enough 
to pray over; in fact, nothing just like this had come into 
her life before. She was not the kind of stuff out of 
which missionaries were made, and this wasn't just 
charitable work. She would expect the girl to do some 
thing for her board, but Polly would be good for a year 
or two more. Time did hang heavy on her hands, and 
this would be interest and employment, and a good turn. 
When matters were settled a little she would broach the 
subject to Elizabeth. 

If Winthrop Adams meant to make a great lady out of 
her why, that was all there was to it! Times were hard 
and there might be war. Winthrop had a son of his 
own, and perhaps not so much money as people thought. 
And it did seem folly to waste the child's means. If she 
had so much enough to go to boarding school she 
oughtn't be living on the Leveretts. Foster was hav 
ing pretty tight squeezing to get along. 

They all wondered what made Aunt Priscilla so un- 
aggressive at supper time. She watched Doris furtively. 
All the household had a smile for her. Foster Leverett 
patted her soft hair, and Warren pinched her cheek in 



AUNT PRISCILLA. 39 

play. Betty gave her half a dozen hugs between times, 
and Mrs. Leverett smiled when Doris glanced her way. 

The quarter-moon was coming up when Priscilla Per 
kins opened the closet door for her things. 

" I'll walk over with Aunt Priscilla," said Warren. 
" It's my night for practice." 

" Oh, yes." His father nodded. Warren had lately 
joined the band, but his mother thought she couldn't 
stand the cornet round the house. 

" I aint a mite afraid in the moonlight. I come so 
often I ought not put anyone out." 

" Now that the evenings are cool it seems lonesomer," 
said Mr. Leverett, settling in his armchair by the fire, 
really glad his son could be attentive without any special 
sacrifice. 

Doris brought the queer little stool and sat down be 
side him. She looked as if she had always lived there. 

" You'll all spoil that child," Aunt Priscilla said to 
Warren when they had stepped off the stoop. 

" I don't believe there's any spoil to her," said Warren 
heartily. " She's the sweetest little thing I ever saw; so 
wise in some ways and so honestly ignorant in others. 
I never saw Uncle Win so taken he never seems to 
quite know what to do with children. And he's asked us 
all over to tea some night next week. I was clear 
struck." 

Mrs. Perkins made no reply. About once a year he 
invited her over to tea with some of the old cousins, and 
he called on her New Year's Day, which was not spe 
cially kept in any fashionable way. 

Mrs. Perkins always said King Street, though in a 
burst of patriotism the name had been changed after the 
Revolution. It had dropped down very much and was 
being given over to business. There was a narrow hall 
door set in a little distance, with a few steps, and the shop 



40 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

front with the plain sign of " Jonas Field, Flour, Grain, 
and Feed." The stairway led to an upper hall and a 
very comfortable suite of rooms, where Mrs. Perkins had 
come as a young wife, and where she meant to end her 
days. It was plenty good enough inside, and she "didn't 
live in the street." 

The best room occupied the whole front and had three 
windows. Priscilla had been barely nineteen when she 
was married, and Hatfield Perkins quite a bachelor. 
And, as no children had come to disturb their orderly 
habits, they had settled more securely in them year after 
year. 

Next to the parlor was the sleeping chamber. Now, 
it was the spare room, though no one came to stay all 
night who was fine enough to put in it. The smaller 
one adjoining she had used since her husband's death. 
There was a little tea room, and a big kitchen at the 
back. Downstairs the store part had been built out, and 
on the roof of this the clothes were dried. Polly always 
sat out here in pleasant weather, to prepare vegetables 
and do various chores. The lot was deep, and at the 
back were some fruit trees, and the patch of herbs every 
woman thought she must have, and a square of grass for 
bleaching. 

A lighted lamp stood at the head of the stairs. Polly 
was dozing in the kitchen. Mrs. Perkins sent her to bed 
in short order. There were two rooms and a storage 
closet upstairs in the gables. One was Polly's. The 
other was the guest chamber that was good enough 
" for the common run of folks." 

The moon was shining in the back windows. Priscilla 
snuffed out the candle; there was no use wasting candle 
light. She sat down in a low rocker, the only one she 
owned ; and several list seats had been worn out in it be 
sides the original one of rushes. She had never been 



AUNT PRISCILLA. 41 

really lonely in the sixty-five years of her life for she had 
kept busy, and was replete with old-fashioned methods 
that made work. She was very particular. Everything 
was scrubbed and scoured and swept and dusted and 
aired. The dishes were polished until they were lus 
trous. The knives and forks and spoons were speckless. 
There were napery and bedding that had been laid by for 
her marriage outfit, and not all worn out yet, though in 
the early years she had kept replenishing for possible 
children. There was plenty for twenty years to come, 
and though her people had been strong and healthy, 
they never went much over seventy. She was the 
youngest, and all the rest were gone. Her few real 
nieces and nephews were scattered about; she had made 
up her mind long ago she shouldn't ever have anyone 
hanging on her. 

No one wanted to. No one even leaned on her. Yet 
somehow the life had never seemed real solitary until 
now. She had comforted her years with the thought 
that children were a great deal of trouble and did not 
always turn out well. She could see the picture the little 
foreign girl made as she folded her arms on Foster Lev- 
erett's knee. She wouldn't have that mop of frowzly 
hair flying about, and she would like to fat her up a little 
she was rather peaked. She had imagined her going 
about in this old place, sewing, learning to work prop 
erly, reading and studying, and going to church every 
Sabbath. She had really meant to do something for a 
human being day after day, not in a spasmodic fashion. 
And this was the end of it. 

She sprang up suddenly, lighted the candle again, 
went out to the kitchen to see that everything was right 
and there was no danger of fire. She opened the outside 
door and glanced around. There was an autumnal chill 
in the air, but there were no mysterious shadows creep- 



42 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

ing about in the yard below that might presage burglars. 
Then she bolted the door with a snap, and stood a mo 
ment in the middle of the floor. 

" You are an old fool, Priscilla Perkins ! The idea of 
all Boston being turned upside down for the sake of one 
little girl! People have come over from England be 
fore, big and little, and there's been a war and there may 
be another, and no end of things to happen. To be sure, 
I'd done my duty by her if I'd had her; and if the others 
spoil her I aint to blame, the Lord knows! " 



CHAPTER IV. 

OUT TO TEA. 

'""THERE! Does it look like Old Boston?" 

They were winding around Copp's Hill. Warren 
had been given part of a day off, and the use of the chaise 
and Jack, to show the little cousin something of Boston 
before they went to Uncle Winthrop's to tea. 

Doris had her new coat, which was a sort of fawn 
color, and the close Puritan cap to keep her neck and 
ears warm. For earache was quite a common com 
plaint among children, and people were careful through 
the long cold winter. A strip of beaver fur edged the 
front, and went around the little cape at the back. Its 
soft grayish-brown framed in her fair face like a picture, 
and her eyes were almost the tint of the deep, unclouded 
blue sky. 

They had a fine view of Old Boston, but they could 
hardly dream of the Boston that was to be. There were 
still the three elevations of Beacon Hill, lowered some 
what, to be sure, but not taken away entirely. And there 
was Fort Hill in the distance. 



OUT TO TEA. 43 

" Why, it looks like a chain of islands, and instead of 
a great sea the water runs round and round. At home 
the Witham comes down to the winding cove called The 
Wash. Boston is sort of set between two rivers, but it 
is fast of the mainland, and doesn't look so much like 
floating off. You can go over to the Norfolk shore, and 
you look out on the great North Sea. But it isn't as big 
as the Atlantic Ocean." 

" Well, I should say not! " with disdain. " Why, you 
can look over to Holland ! " 

" You can't see Holland, but it's there, and Denmark." 

" And we shall have to be something like the Dutch, 
if ever we mean to have a grand city. We shall have to 
dike and fill in and bridge. I have a great regard for 
those sturdy old Dutchmen and the way they fought the 
Spanish as well as the sea." 

Doris didn't know much about Holland, even if she 
could make pillow lace and read French verses with a 
charming accent. 

" That's the Mill Pond. And all that is the back part 
of the bay. And over there a grand battle was fought 
but you were not born before the Revolutionary 
War." 

" I guess you were not born yourself, Warren Lev- 
erett," said Betty, with unnecessary vigor. 

"Well, I am rather glad I wasn't; I shall have the 
longer to live. But grandfather and ever so many rela 
tives were, and father knows all about it. I am proud, 
too, of having been named for General Warren." 

" And down there near the bay is Fort Hill. Boston 
wasn't built on seven hills like Rome, and though there 
are acres and acres of low ground, we are not likely to 
be overflowed, unless the Atlantic Ocean should rise and 
sweep us out of existence. And there is the old bury 
ing ground, full of queer names and curious epitaphs." 



44 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

The long peninsula stretched out in a sort of irregular 
pear-shape, and then was connected to another portion 
by a narrow neck. The little villages about had a rural 
aspect, and some of them were joined to the mainland by 
bridges. And cows were still pastured on the commons 
and in several tracts of meadow land in the city. Many 
people had their own milk and made butter. There were 
large gardens at the sides of the houses, many of them 
standing with the gable end to the street, and built mostly 
of wood. But nearly all the leaves had fallen now, and 
though the sun shone with a mellow softness, it was 
quite evident the reign of summer was ended. 

They drove slowly about, Warren rehearsing stories 
of this and that place, and wishing there was more time 
so they might go over to Charlestown. 

" But Doris is to stay, and there will be time enough 
next summer. It is confusing to see so many places at 
once. And mother said we must be at Uncle Win's 
about four," declared Betty. 

It was rather confusing to Doris, who had heard so 
little of American history in her quiet home. War 
seemed a dreadful thing to her, and she could not take 
Warren's pride in battle and conquest. 

So they turned and went down through the winding 
streets. 

"Do you know why they are so crooked?" Warren 
asked. 

" No; why?" asked Doris innocently. 

" Well, William Blackstone's cows made the paths. 
He came here first of all and had an allotment. Then 
when people began to come over from Charlestown he 
sold out for thirty pounds English money. Grandfather 
used to go over to the old orchard for apples. But 
think of Boston being bought for thirty pounds! " 

" It wasn't this Boston with the houses and churches 



OUT TO TEA. 45 

and everything. Come, do get along, or else let me 
drive," said Betty. 

There was quite a descent as they came down. 
Streets seemed to stop suddenly, and you had to make a 
curve to get into the next one. From Main they turned 
into Fish Street, and here the wind from the harbor 
swept across to the Mill Pond. 

That's Long Wharf, and it has lots of famous stories 
connected with it. And just down there is father's. 
And now we could cut across and go over home." 

" As if we meant to do any such foolish thing? " ejacu 
lated Betty. 

" I said we could. There are a great many things pos 
sible that are not advisable," returned the oracular young 
man. " And I have heard the longest way round was 
the surest way home. We shall reach there about nine 
o'clock to-night." 

" Like the old woman and her pig. I should laugh if 
we found mother already at Uncle Win's." 

" She's going to wait for father, and something always 
happens to him." 

They crossed Market Square, and passed Faneuil Hall, 
that was to grow more famous as the years went on: 
then they took Cornhill and went over to Marlborough 
Street. 

" That's Fort Hill. It's lovely in summer, when the 
wind doesn't blow you to shreds. Now we will take 
Marlborough, and to-night you will be surprised to see 
how straight it is to Sudbury Street." 

They drove rapidly down, and made one turn. It was 
like a beautiful country road, over to Common Street, 
and there was the great tract of ground that would grow 
more beautiful with every decade. Tall, overarching 
trees ; ways that were grassy a month ago, but now turn 
ing brown. 



46 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

" Here we are," and they turned up a driveway at the 
side of the long porch upheld with round columns. 
Betty sprang out on the stepping block and half-lifted 
Doris, while Warren drove up to the barn. 

Uncle Winthrop came out to welcome them, and 
smiled down into the little girl's face. 

" But where is your mother? " he asked. 

" Oh, she had some shopping to do and then she was 
to meet father. We have been driving up around Copp's 
Hill and giving Doris a peep at the country." 

" The wind begins to blow up sharply, though it was 
very pleasant. I am glad to see you, little Doris, and I 
hope you have not grown homesick sighing for Old Bos 
ton. For if you should reach the threescore-and-ten, 
things will have changed so much that this will be old 
Boston; and, Betty, you will be telling your grandchil 
dren what it was like." 

Betty laughed gayly. 

There was the same wide hall as at home, but it wasn't 
the keeping-room here. It had a great fireplace, and at 
one side a big square sofa. The floor was inlaid with 
different-colored woods, following geometric designs, 
much like those of to-day. Before the fire was a rug of 
generous dimensions, and a high-backed chair stood on 
each of the nearest corners. There was a bookcase with 
some busts ranged on the top; there were some por 
traits of ancestors in military attire, and women with 
enormous head-dresses; there was one in a Puritan cap, 
wide collar, and a long-sleeved gown, that quite spoiled 
the effect of her pretty hands. Over the mantel was a 
pair of very large deer's antlers. Down at one corner 
there were two swords crossed and some other firearms. 
Just under them was a cabinet with glass doors that con 
tained many curiosities. 

A tall, thin woman entered from a door at the lower 



OUT TO TEA. 47 

end of the hall and greeted Betty with a quiet dignity 
that would have seemed cold, if it had not been the usual 
manner of Recompense Gardiner, who could never have 
been effusive, and who took it for granted that anyone 
Mr. Winthrop Adams invited to the house was welcome. 
Her forehead was high and rather narrow, her brown 
hair was combed straight back and twisted in a little knot 
high on her head, in which in the afternoon, or on com 
pany occasions, she wore a large shell comb. Her fea 
tures were rather long and spare, and she wore plain 
little gold hoops in her ears because her eyes had been 
weak in youth and it was believed this strengthened 
them. Anyhow, she could see well enough at five-and- 
forty to detect a bit of dust or dirt, or lint left on a plate 
from the towel, or a chair that was a trifle out of its 
rightful place. She was an excellent housekeeper, and 
suited her master exactly. 

" This is the little English girl I was telling you about, 
Recompense Cousin Charles' grandniece, and my 
ward," announced Mr. Adams. 

" How do you do, child! Let me take off your hood 
and cloak. Why, she isn't very stout or rosy. She 
might have been born here in the east wind. And she 
is an Adams through and through." 

"Do you think so?" with an expression of pleasure, 
as Recompense held her off and looked her over. 

" Are her eyes black? " rather disapprovingly. 

" No, the very darkest blue you can imagine," said 
Mr. Adams. 

" Betty, run upstairs with these things. Your feet are 
younger than mine, and haven't done so much trotting 
round. Lay them on my bed. Why, where's your 
mother? " in a tone of surprise. 

Betty made the proper explanation and skipped lightly 
upstairs. 



48 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

Mr. Adams took one of the large chairs, drawing it 
closer to the fire. Recompense brought out a stool for 
the little girl. It was covered with thick crimson bro 
cade, a good deal faded, but it had a warm, inviting 
aspect. Children were not expected to sit in chairs 
then, or to run about and ask what everything was for. 

There had been children, little girls of different rela 
tives, sitting at the fireside before. His own small boy 
had dozed in the fascinating warmth of the fire and hated 
to go to bed, and he had weakly indulged him, as there 
had been no mother to exercise authority. But Doris 
was different. She was alone in the world, and had been 
sent to him by a mysterious providence. He knew the 
responsibility of a girl must be greater. He couldn't 
send her to the Latin school and then to Harvard, and 
he really wondered how much education a girl ought to 
have to fit her for the position Doris would be able to 
take. 

She was like a quaint picture sitting there. Betty had 
tied a cluster of curls high on her head with a blue rib 
bon, and just a few were left to cling about her neck 
over the lace tucker. Her slim hands lay in her lap. 
He glanced at his own yes, they were Adams hands, 
and looked little like hard work. He was rather proud 
that Recompense should discern a family likeness. 

Betty came flying down the oaken staircase, and War 
ren entered from the back door. For a few moments 
there was quite a confusion of tongues, and Recompense 
wondered how mothers stood it all the time. 

" How queer not to have anyone know about Bos 
ton," began Warren with a teasing glance over at Doris. 
" We have been looking at it from Copp's Hill, and 
going through the odd places." 

" And I wondered if people came to be fed in White 
Bread Alley," exclaimed Doris quickly. 



OUT TO TEA. 49 

" And I dare say Warren didn't know." 

" Why, yes a woman baked bread there." 

" Women have baked bread in a great many places," 
returned Uncle Win, with a quizzical smile. 

" Oh, I didn't mean just that." 

" It was John Tudor's mother," appended Betty. 

" Mrs. Tudor made the first penny rolls offered for 
sale in Boston, and little John, as he was then, took them 
around for sale." 

" And Mr. Benjamin Franklin didn't make them fa 
mous either," laughed Warren. 

" And Salutation Alley with its queer sign its two old 
men with cocked hats and small clothes, bowing to each 
other," said Betty. " It always suggests a couplet I 
found in an old book: 

" ' O mortal man who lives by bread, 
What is it makes your nose so red ? 
O mortal man with cheeks so pale, 
'Tis drinking Levi Puncheon's ale ! ' " 

" It is said the resolutions for the destruction of the 
tea were drawn up in the old tavern. It was famous for 
being the rendezvous of the patriots." 

" It would be nice to drive all around Boston shore." 

" Let it be summer time, then," rejoined Betty. " Or, 
like the Hollanders, we might do it on skates. Of course 
you do not know how to skate, Doris? " 

Doris admitted with winsome frankness that she did 
not. But she could ride a pony, and she could row a 
little. 

" There are some delightful summer parties when we 
do go out rowing. At least, the boys row mostly, be 
cause 

" ' Satan finds some mischief still 
For idle hands to do ! ' " 

and Betty laughed. 



So A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

" And the girls always take their knitting," appended 
Warren. " There's never any mischief for them to get 
into." 

" I suppose it doesn't look much like Old Boston," 
inquired Miss Recompense. " And what do the little 
girls do there, my dear? " 

Warren opened his eyes wide. The idea of Miss 
Recompense saying " my dear " to a child. 

It had slipped out in a curiously unpremeditated 
fashion. There was something about the little girl per 
haps it was the fact of her having come so far, and being 
an orphan that moved Recompense Gardiner. 

" I didn't know any real little girls," answered Doris 
modestly, " except the farmer's children. They worked 
out of doors in the summer in the fields." 

" And I was the youngest of five sisters," said Miss 
Recompense. " There were three boys." 

" It would be so nice to have a sister of one's very 
own. There were Sallie and Helen Jewett on the 
vessel." 

" I think I like the sisters to be older," said Betty 
archly. " There are the weddings and the nieces and 
nephews. And they are always begging you to visit 
them." 

" And I had no sisters," said Uncle Win, as if he would 
fain console Doris for her loneliness. 

She glanced up with sympathetic sweetness. He was 
a little puzzled at the intuitive process. 

" Fix up the fire, Warren. Your mother and father 
will be cold when they get in." 

Warren gave the burned log a poke, and it fell in two 
ends, neither dropping over the andirons. Then he 
pushed them a little nearer and a shower of sparks flew 
about. 

" Oh, how beautiful ! " and Doris leaned over intently. 



OUT TO TEA. 51 

Warren placed a large log back of them, then he piled 
on some smaller split pieces. They began to blaze 
shortly. He picked up the turkey's wing and brushed 
around the stone hearth. 

" That was very well done," remarked Miss Recom 
pense approvingly. 

" Warren knows how to make a fire," said his uncle, 
" and it is quite an art." 

" That is a sign he will make a good husband," com 
mented Betty. " And I shall get a bad one, for my fires 
go out half the time." 

" You are too heedless," said Miss Recompense. 

" Now, we ought to tell some ghost stories," suggested 
Warren. " Or we could wait until it gets a little darker. 
The sun is going down, and the fire is coming up, and 
just see how they are fighting at the Spanish Armada. 
Uncle Win, when you break up housekeeping you can 
leave me that picture." 

They all turned to look at the picture in the cross light, 
with one of the wonderful fleet ablaze from the broadside 
of her enemy. It was a vigorous if somewhat crude 
painting by a Dutch artist. 

" Oh, Uncle Win," cried Betty; " do you really think 
there will be war when we have a new President? " 

" I sincerely hope not." 

" We ought to have an Armada. Well, I don't know 
either," continued Warren dubiously. " If it should go 
to pieces like that one," nodding his head over to the 
scene, growing more vivid by the reflection of the red 
light in the west. " Doris, do you know what happened 
to the Spanish Armada? " 

" Indeed I do," returned Doris spiritedly. " I may 
not know so much about America, except that you 
fought England, and were called rebels and and " 

" That we were the upper dog in the fight, and now 



52 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

we are citizens of a great and free Republic and rebels no 
longer." 

" But the Spanish did not conquer England. Some 
of the ships were destroyed by English men-of-war, and 
then a terrific storm wrecked them, and there were only 
a few to return to Spain." 

" Pretty good," said Uncle Win smilingly. " And 
now, Warren, maybe you can tell about the French Ar 
mada that was going to destroy Boston." 

" Why, the French came and helped us. Oh, there 
was the French and English war, but did they have a 
real Armada? " 

" Why, after Louisburg was taken by the colonists 
we were only Colonies in 1745. The French resolved to 
destroy all the towns the colonists had planted on the 
coast. You surely can't have forgotten?" 

" The Revolution seems so much greater to this gen 
eration," said Miss Recompense. " That is almost 
seventy years ago. My father was called out for the 
defense of Boston. Governor Shirley knew it would be 
the first town attacked." 

" And a real Armada! " said Warren, big-eyed. 

" They didn't call it that exactly. Perhaps they 
thought the name unlucky. But there were twenty 
transports and thirty-four frigates and eleven ships of 
the line. Quite a formidable array, you must admit. 
The Due d'Anville left Brest with five battalions of 
veterans." 

" And then what happened? Warren, we do not know 
the history of our own city, after all. But surely they 
did not take it?" 

" No, it is safely anchored to a bit of mainland yet," 
said Uncle Win dryly. " Off Cape Sable they encoun 
tered a violent storm. The Due succeeded in reaching 
the rendezvous, but in such a damaged condition that 



OUT TO TEA. 53 

he felt a victory would be impossible. Conflans with 
several partly disabled ships returned to France, and 
some steered for friendly ports in the West Indies. The 
Due died in less than a week, of poison it was said, unwil 
ling to endure the misfortune. The Governor General 
of Canada ordered the Vice Admiral to proceed and 
strike one blow at least. But he saw so many difficulties 
in the way, that he worried himself ill with a fever and 
put himself to death with his own sword. Boston was 
so well prepared for them by this time, the fleet decided 
to attack Annapolis, but encountering another furious 
storm they returned to France with the remnant. So 
Armadas do not seem to meet with brilliant success." 

" Why, that is quite a romance, Uncle Win, and I must 
hunt it up. Curious that both should have shared so 
nearly the same fate." 

" That was a special interposition of Providence," said 
Miss Recompense. 

People believed quite strongly in such things then, 
and it certainly looked like it, since the storm was of no 
human agency. 

Miss Recompense began to light the candles, and the 
steps of the tardy ones were heard on the porch. Betty 
sprang up and opened the door. 

" I began to think I never should get here," exclaimed 
Mrs. Leverett. " I waited and waited for your father, 
and I thought something had surely happened." 

" And so it had. Captain Conklin is going to start for 
China in a few days, and there was so much to talk about 
I couldn't get away." 

" If I had been real sure he would have come on I 
would have started. It has blown off cold. Didn't you 
have a breezy ride? Were you warm enough, Doris?" 

" It was splendid," replied Doris, her eyes shining. 
" And I have seen so many things." 



54 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

" Now get good and warm and come out to supper." 

" If you call this cold I don't know what you will do at 
midwinter." 

" Well, it is chilly, and we are not used to it. But we 
must have our Indian summer yet." 

Betty had been carrying away her mother's hat and 
shawl, and now Uncle Win led the way to the dining 
room. The table was bountifully spread; it was a sort 
of high tea, and in those days people ate with a hearty 
relish and had not yet discovered the thousand dangers 
lurking in food. If it was good and well cooked no one 
asked any farther questions. At least, men did not. 
Women took recipes of this and that, and invented new 
ways of preparing some dish with as much elation as 
some of the greater discoveries have given. 

The men talked politics and the possibilities of war. 
There was an uneasy feeling all along the border, where 
Indian troubles were being fomented. There were some 
unsettled questions between us and England. Abroad, 
Napoleon was making such strides that it seemed as if 
he might conquer all Europe. 

Mrs. Leverett and Miss Recompense compared their 
successes in pickling and preserving, and discussed the 
high prices of dry goods and the newer scant skirts that 
would take so much less cloth and the improvement in 
home-made goods. Carpets of the higher grades were 
beginning to be manufactured in Philadelphia. 

Warren, with the appetite of a healthy young fellow, 
thought everything tasted uncommonly good, and really 
had nothing to say. Doris watched one and another, 
with soft dark eyes, and wondered if it would be right to 
like Uncle Win any better than she did Uncle Leverett, 
and why she had any desire to do so, which troubled her 
a little. Uncle Win was the handsomest. She liked the 
something about him that she came to know afterward 



OUT TO TEA. 55 

was culture and refinement. But she was a very loyal 
little girl, and Uncle Leverett had welcomed her so 
warmly, even on board the vessel. 

After supper they went into Uncle Winthrop's study 
a while. There were more bookcases, and such a quan 
tity of books and pamphlets and papers. There were 
busts of some of the old Roman orators and emperors, 
and more paintings. There was a beautiful young woman 
with a head full of soft curls and two bands passed 
through them in Greek fashion. A scarf was loosely 
wound around her shoulders, showing her white, shapely 
throat, and her short sleeves displayed almost perfect 
arms that looked like sculpture. Later Doris came to 
know this was Uncle Winthrop's sweet young wife, who 
died when her little boy was scarcely a year old. 

There were many curiosities. The walls were wain 
scoted in panels, with moldings about them that looked 
like another frame for the pictures. The chimney piece 
was of wood, and exquisitely carved. There was an old 
escritoire that was both carved and gilded, and in the 
center of the room a large round table strewn with books 
and writing materials. At the windows were heavy red 
damask curtains, lined with yellow brocade. They were 
always put up the first of October and taken down punc 
tually the first day of April. Uncle Win had a luxurious 
side to his nature, and there was a soft imported rug in 
the room as well. 

Carpets were not in general use. Many floors were 
polished, some in the finer houses inlaid. Rag carpets 
were used for warmth in winter, and some were beauti 
fully made. Weaving them was quite a business, and 
numbers of women were experts at it. Sometimes it was 
in a hit-or-miss style, the rags sewed just as one happened 
to pick them up. Then they were made of the ribbon 
pattern, a broad stripe of black or dark, with narrower 



56 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

and wider colors alternating. The rags were often col 
ored to get pretty effects. 

It was a long walk home, but in those days, when there 
were neither cars nor cabs, people were used to walking, 
and the two men would not mind it. Betty could drive 
Jack by night or day, as he was a sure-footed, steady- 
going animal, and for a distance the road was straight 
up Beacon Street. 

" Some day I will come up and take you out to see a 
little more of your new home," said Uncle Winthrop to 
Doris. " When does she go to school, Elizabeth?" 

" Why, I thought it would be as well for her to begin 
next week. From eight to twelve. And she is so young 
there is no real need of her beginning other things. 
Betty can teach her to sew and do embroidery." 

" There is her French. It would be a pity to drop 
that." 

" She might teach me French for the sake of the exer 
cise," returned Betty laughingly when Uncle Win 
looked so perplexed. 

" To be sure. We will get it all settled presently." 
He felt rather helpless where a girl was concerned, yet 
when he glanced down into her soft, wistful eyes he 
wished somehow that she was living here. But it would 
be lonely for a child. 

Warren brought Jack around and helped in the 
womenkind when they had said all their good-nights, 
and Uncle Win added that he would be over some even 
ing next week to supper. 

It was a clear night, but there was no moon. Jack 
tossed up his head and trotted along, with the common 
on one side of him. 

Boston had been improving very much in the last de 
cade, and stretching herself out a little. But it was quite 
country-like where Uncle Win lived. He liked the 



A MORNING AT SCHOOL. 57 

quiet and the old house, the great trees and his garden 
that gave him all kinds of vegetables and some choice 
fruit, though he never did anything more arduous than to 
superintend it and enjoy the fruits of Jonas Starr's 
labor. 



CHAPTER V. 

A MORNING AT SCHOOL. 

/"~\UR ancestors for some occult reason held early ris- 
^^ ing in high esteem. Why burning fire and candle 
light in the morning, when everything was cold and 
dreary, should look so much more virtuous and heroic 
than sitting up a while at night when the house was warm 
and everything pleasant, is one of the mysteries to be 
solved only by the firm belief that the easy, comfortable 
moments were the seasons especially susceptible to temp 
tation, and that sacrifice and austerity were the guide- 
posts on the narrow way to right living. 

Mr. and Mrs. Leverett had been reared in that man 
ner. They had softened in many ways, and Betty was 
often told, " I had no such indulgences when I was a 
girl." But, mother-like, Mrs. Leverett " eased up " 
many things for Betty. Electa King half envied them, 
and yet she confessed in her secret heart that she had en 
joyed her girlhood and her lover very much. She and 
Matthias King had been neighbors and played as chil 
dren, went to church and to singing school together, 
and on visitors' night at the debating society she was 
sure to be the visitor. Girls did not have just that kind 
of boy friends now, she thought. 

The softening of religious prejudices was softening 
character as well. Yet the intensity of Puritanism had 



58 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

kindled a force of living that had done a needed work. 
People really discussed religious problems nowadays, 
while even twenty years before it was simply belief or 
disbelief, and the latter " was not to be suffered among 
you." 

Mrs. Leverett kept to her habit of early rising. True, 
dark and stormy mornings Mr. Leverett allowed himself 
a little latitude, for very few people came to buy his 
wares early in the morning. But breakfast was a little 
after six, except on Sunday morning, when it dropped 
down to seven. 

And Mrs. Webb's school began at eight from the first 
day of February to the first day of November. The in 
tervening three months it was half-past eight and con 
tinued to half-past twelve. 

Doris came home quite sober. " Well," began Uncle 
Leverett, " how did school go? " 

" I didn't like it very much," she answered slowly. 

" What did you do? " 

" I read first. Four little girls and two boys read. 
We all stood in a row." 

"What then?" 

" We spelled. But I did not know where the lesson 
was, and I think Mrs. Webb gave me easy words." 

" And you did not enjoy that? " Uncle Leverett gave 
a short laugh. 

" I was glad not to miss," she replied gravely. 

" Mrs. Webb uses Dilworth's speller," said Mrs. Lev 
erett, "and so I gave her Betty's. But she has a different 
reader. She thought Doris read uncommon well." 

" And what came next? " 

" They said tables all together. Why do they call 
them tables? " 

" Because a system of calculation would be too long a 
name," he answered dryly. 



A MORNING AT SCHOOL. 59 

Doris looked perplexed. " Then there was geog 
raphy. What a large place America is ! " and she sighed. 

" Yes, the world is a good-sized planet, when you come 
to consider. And America is only one side of it." 

" I don't see how it keeps going round." 

" That must be viewed with the eye of faith," com 
mented Betty. 

" All that does very well. I am sorry you did not 
like it." 

" I did like all that," returned Doris slowly. " But the 
sums troubled me." 

" She's very backward in figures," said Mrs. Leverett. 
" Betty, you must take her in hand." 

" I must study all the afternoon," said Doris. 

" Oh, you'll soon get into the traces," said Uncle Lev 
erett consolingly. 

It was Monday and wash-day in every well-ordered 
family. Mrs. Leverett and Betty had the washing out 
early, but it was not a brisk drying day, so no ironing 
could be done in the afternoon. Betty changed her 
gown and brought out her sewing, and Doris studied her 
lessons with great earnestness. 

" I wish I was sure I knew the spelling," she said wist 
fully. 

" Well, let me hear you." Betty laid the book on the 
wide window sill and gave out the words between the 
stitches, and Doris spelled every one rightly but " per 
ceive." 

" Those i's and e's used to bother me," said Betty. " I 
made a list of them once and used to go over them until 
I could spell them in the dark." 

" Is it harder to spell in the dark? " 

"Oh, you innocent!" laughed Betty. "That means 
you could spell them anywhere." 

Spelling had been rather a mysterious art, but Mr. 



60 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

Dilworth, and now Mr. Noah Webster, had been regulat 
ing it according to a system. 

" Now you might go over some tables. You can add 
and multiply so much faster when you know them. 
Suppose we try them together." 

That was very entertaining and, Doris began to think, 
not as difficult as she had imagined in the morning. 

" Betty," said her mother, when there was a little lull, 
" what do you suppose has become of Aunt Priscilla? I 
do hope she did not come over the day we were at Cousin 
Winthrop's. But she never was here once last week." 

" There were two rainy days." 

" And she may be ill. I think you had better go down 
and see." 

"Yes. Don't you want to go, Doris? The walk will 
be quite fun." 

Doris could not resist the coaxing eyes, though she 
felt she ought to stay and study. But Betty promised to 
go over lessons with her when they came back. So in a 
few moments they were ready for the change. Mrs. 
Leverett sent a piece of cake and some fresh eggs, quite 
a rarity now. 

The houses and shops seemed so close together, Doris 
thought. And they met so many people. Doris had 
not lived directly in Old Boston town, but quite in the 
outskirts. And King Street was getting to be quite full 
of business. 

Black Polly came to the door. " Yes, missus was in 
but she had an awful cold, and been all stopped up so 
that she could hardly get the breath of life." 

Aunt Priscilla had a strip of red flannel pinned around 
her forehead, holding in place a piece of brown paper, 
moistened with vinegar, her unfailing remedy for head 
ache. Another band was around her throat, and she had 
a well-worn old shawl about her shoulders, while her 



A MORNING AT SCHOOL. 61 

feet rested on a box on which was placed a warm 
brick. 

" Is it possible you have come? Why, one might be 
dead and buried and no one the wiser. I crawled out to 
church on Sunday, and took more cold, though I have 
heard people say you wouldn't catch cold going to 
church. Religion ought to keep one warm, I s'pose." 

" I'm sorry. Mother was afraid you were ill." 

" And I have all the visiting to do. It does seem as 
if once in an age some of you might come over. You 
went to Cousin Winthrop's! " in an aggrieved tone. 

" But mother had not been there since last summer, 
when 'Lecty was on making her visit. And we took all 
the family along, just as you can," in a merry tone. 
" But if you like to have mother come and spend the day, 
I'll keep house. You see, there's always meals to get for 
father and Warren." 

" Yes, I kept house before you were born, Betty Lev- 
erett, and had a man who needed three stout meals a day. 
But he want a mite of trouble. I never see a man easier 
to suit than Hatfield Perkins. And I didn't neglect him 
because he could be put off and find no fault. There are 
men in the world that it would take the grace of a saint 
to cook for, only in heaven among the saints if there 
aint any marryin' you can quite make up your mind there 
isn't any cooking either. Well can't you get a chair? 
There's that little low one for Dorothy." 

" If you please," began Doris, with quiet dignity, " my 
name is not Dorothy." 

" Well, you ought to hear yourself called by a Chris 
tian name once in a while." 

" Still it isn't a Scriptural name," interposed Betty. 
" I looked over the list to see. And here are some nice 
fresh eggs. Mother has had several splendid layers this 
fall." 



62 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

" I'm obliged, I'm sure. I do wish I could keep a few- 
hens. But Jonas Field wants so much room, and there's 
my garden herbs. I've just been dosing on sage tea and 
honey, and it has about broke up my cough. I generally 
do take one cold in autumn, and then I go to March be 
fore I get another. Well, I s'pose Recompense Gardi 
ner stays at your uncle's? There was some talk I heard 
about some old fellow hanging round. After I'd lived 
so long single, I'd stay as I was." 

" I can't imagine Miss Recompense getting her wed 
ding gown ready. What would it be, I wonder? " 

Betty laughed heartily. 

" She could buy the best in the market if she chose," 
said Aunt Priscilla sharply. " She must have a good bit 
of money laid by. Cousin Winthrop would be lost with 
out her. Not but what there are as good housekeepers 
in the world as Recompense Gardiner." 

Then Aunt Priscilla had to stop and cough. Polly 
came in with some posset. 

" I'll have one of those eggs beaten up in some mulled 
cider, Polly," she said. 

Doris glanced curiously at the old colored woman. 
She was tall and still very straight, and, though kept in 
strict subjection all her life, had an air and bearing of 
dignity, as if she might have come from some royal race. 
Her hair was snowy white, and the little braided tails 
hung below her turban, which was of gay Madras, and 
the small shoulder shawl she wore was of red and black. 

" You're too old a woman to be fussed up in such gay 
things," Aunt Priscilla would exclaim severely every 
time she brought them home, for she purchased Polly's 
attire. " But you've always worn them, and I really 
don't know as you'd look natural in suitable colors." 

" I like cheerful goin' things, that make you feel as if 
the Lord had just let out a summer day stead'er Novem- 



A MORNING AT SCHOOL. 63 

her. An', missus, you don't like a gray fire burned half 
to ashes, nuther." 

Truth to tell, Aunt Priscilla did hanker after a bit of 
gayety, though she frowned on it to preserve a just bal 
ance with conscience. And no one knew the parcels 
done up in an old oaken chest in the storeroom, that had 
been indulged in at reprehensible moments. 

Just then there was a curious diversion to Doris. A 
beautiful sleek tiger cat entered the room, and, walking 
up to the fire, turned and looked at the child, waving his 
long tail majestically back and forth. He came nearer 
with his sleepy, translucent eyes studying her. 

" May I touch him? " she asked hesitatingly. 

" Land, yes ! That's Polly's Solomon. She talks to 
him till she's made him most a witch, and she thinks he 
knows everything." 

Solomon settled the question by putting two snowy 
white paws on Doris' knee, and stretching up indefi 
nitely with a dainty sniffing movement of the whiskers, 
as if he wanted to understand whether advances would be 
favorably received. 

There was a cat at the Leveretts', but it haunted the 
cellar, the shed, and the stable, and was hustled out of 
the kitchen with no ceremony. Aunt Elizabeth was not 
fond of cats, and cat hairs were her abomination. Doris 
had uttered an ejaculation of delight when she saw it one 
morning, a big black fellow with white feet and a white 
choker. 

" Don't touch him he'll scratch you like as not! " ex 
claimed Mrs. Leverett in a quick tone. " Get out, Tom! 
We don't allow him in the house. He's a good mouser, 
but it spoils cats to nurse them. And I never could 
abide a cat around under my feet." 

Doris had made one other attempt to win Tom's favor 
as she was walking about the garden. But Tom eyed 



64 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

her askance and discreetly declined her overture. There 
had always been cats at Miss Arabella's, and two great 
dogs as well as her pony, and birds so tame they would 
fly down for crumbs. 

"Oh, kitty!" She touched him with her dainty fin 
gers. " Solomon. What a funny name ! Oh, you 
beautiful great big cat ! " 

Solomon rubbed his head on her arm and began to 
purr. He was sure of a welcome. 

" You can't get in her lap, for it isn't big enough," 
said Aunt Priscilla. " Polly's got him spoiled out of all 
reason, though I s'pose a cat's company when there's 
no one else." 

" If you would let me sit on the rug," ventured Doris 
timidly. She had been rather precise of late in her new 
home. 

" Well, I declare ! Sit on the floor if you want to. 
The floor was plenty good enough to sit on when I was 
a child. Me and my sisters had a corner of our own, and 
we'd sit there and sew." 

Betty had been about to interpose, but at Aunt Pris- 
cilla's concession Doris had slidden down and taken 
Solomon in her arms, and rubbed her soft cheek against 
his head. Polly came in with the egg and cider. 

"Why, little missy, you just done charm him! He's 
mighty afeared of the boys around, and there aint no 
little gals. Do just see him, Mis' Perkins. He acts as 
if he was rollin' in a bed of sweet catnip." 

" One is about as wise as the other," declared Aunt 
Priscilla, nodding her head. She was rather glad there 
was something in her house to be a rival to Cousin Win- 
throp and the Leveretts, since Doris Adams was to be 
held up on a high plane and spoiled with indulgence. 
She had not yet made up her mind whether she would 
like the child or not. 



A MORNING AT SCHOOL. 65 

" Yes, she had started at Mrs. Webb's school. Uncle 
Win was going to make some arrangement about her 
French and her writing when he came over. They'd 
had a letter from 'Lecty, and as the legislature was to 
meet in Hartford there would be quite gay times, and 
she did so hope she could go. Mary wasn't very well, 
and wanted mother to come on for a week or two pres 
ently," and Betty made big eyes at Aunt Priscilla, while 
that lady nodded as well as her bundled up head would 
admit, to signify that she understood. 

" I'm sure you ought to know enough to keep house 
for your father and Warren," was the comment. 

Then Betty said they must go, and Aunt Priscilla 
tartly rejoined that they might look in and see whether 
she was dead or alive. 

" Can I come and see Solomon again? " asked Doris. 

" Of course, since Solomon is head of the house." 

" Thank you," returned Doris simply, not understand 
ing the sarcasm. 

" Wonderful how Solomon liked little missy," said 
Polly, straightening the chairs and restoring order. 

" My head aches with all the talking," said Aunt Pris 
cilla. " I want to be alone." 

But she felt a little conscience-smitten as Polly stepped 
about in the kitchen getting supper and sang in a thick, 
soft, but rather quivering voice, her favorite hymn: 

" ' Hark, from the tombs a doleful sound, 
Mine ears, attend the cry.' " 

Yes, Polly was a faithful old creature, only she had 
grown forgetful, and she was losing her strength, and 
black people gave out suddenly. But there, what was 
the use of borrowing trouble, and the idea of having a 
child around to train and stew over, and no doubt she 
would be getting married just the time when she, Mrs. 



66 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

Perkins, would need her the most. The Lord hadn't 
seen fit to give her any children to comfort her old age; 
after all, would she want a delicate little thing like this 
child with a heathenish name! 

It was quite chilly now, and Doris, holding Betty's 
hand tight, skipped along merrily, her heart strangely 
warm and gay. 

" She's very queer, and her voice sounds as if she 
couldn't get the scold out of it, doesn't it? And I felt 
afraid of the black woman first. I never saw any until 
we were on the ship. But the beautiful cat! " with a 
lingering emphasis on the adjective. 

" Well cats are cats," replied Betty sagely. " I don't 
care much about them myself, though we should be over 
run with rats and mice if it wasn't for them. I like a 
fine, big dog." 

" Oh, Betty! " and a girl caught her by the shoulder, 
turning her round and laughing heartily at her surprise. 

" Why, Jane ! How you startled me." 

" And is this your little foreign girl French or some 
thing? " 

" English, if you please, and her father was born here 
in Boston. And isn't it queer that she should have lived 
in another Boston? And her name is Doris Adams." 

" I'm sure the Adams are sown thickly enough about, 
but Doris sounds like verses. And, oh, Betty, I've been 
crazy to see you for two days. I am to have a real party 
next week. I shall be seventeen, and there will be just 
that number invited. The girls are to come in the after 
noon and bring their sewing. There will be nine. And 
eight young men," laughing " boys that we know and 
have gone sledding with. They are to come to tea at 
seven sharp. Cousin Morris is to bring his black fiddler 
Joe, and we are going to dance, and play forfeits, and 
have just a grand time." 



A MORNING AT SCHOOL. 67 

" But I don't know how to dance much." 

Betty's highest accomplishments were in the three R's. 
Her manuscript arithmetic was the pride of the family, 
but of grammar she candidly confessed she couldn't 
make beginning nor end. 

" I'm going to coax hard to go to dancing school this 
winter. Sam is going, and he says all the girls are learn 
ing to dance. Mother's coming round to-morrow. We 
want to be sure about the nine girls. Good-by, it's get 
ting late." 

" Now, let's hurry home," exclaimed Betty. 

The table was laid, and Mrs. Leverett said: 

" Why didn't you stay all night? " 

" Aunt Priscilla has her autumn cold. She was quite 
cross at first. She was sick last week, and went to 
church yesterday, and is worse to-day. But she was 
glad about the eggs." 

" There comes your father. Be spry now." 

After supper Warren went out to look after Jack. Mr. 
Leverett took his chair in the corner of the wide chim 
ney and pushed out the stool for the little girl. She 
smiled as she sat down and laid her hands on his knee. 

" So you didn't like the school," he began, after a long 
silence. 

" Yes I liked most of it," rather reluctantly. 

"What was it you didn't like sitting still?" 

" No not that." 

" The lessons? Were they too hard? " 

" She said I needn't mind this morning." 

" But the figuring bothered you." 

" Of course I didn't know," she said candidly. 

" You will get into it pretty soon. Betty '11 train you. 
She's a master hand at figures, smarter than Warren." 

Doris made no comment, but there was an unconfessed 
puzzle in her large eyes. 



68 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

" Well, what is it? " The interest he took in her sur 
prised himself. 

" She whipped a boy on his hands with a ruler very 
hard because he couldn't remember his lesson." 

" That's a good aid to memory. I've seen it tried 
when I was a boy." 

" But if I had tried and tried and studied I should have 
thought it very cruel." 

" I guess he didn't try or study. What did Miss Ara 
bella do to you when you were careless and forgot 
things? Or were you never bad?" 

Doris hung her head, while a faint color mounted to 
her brow. 

" When I was naughty I couldn't go out on the pony 
nor take him a lump of sugar. And he loved sugar so. 
And sometimes I had to study a psalm." 

" And weren't children ever whipped in your coun 
try? " 

" The common people beat their children and their 
wives and their horses and dogs. But Miss Arabella 
was a lady. She couldn't have beaten a cat." 

There was a switch on the top of the closet in the 
kitchen that beat Tom out of doors when he ventured 
in. Doris' tender heart rather resented this. 

Foster Leverett smiled at this distinction. 

"1 do suppose people might get along, but boys are 
often very trying." 

" Don't grown-up people ever do anything wrong? 
And when they scold dreadfully aren't they out of tem 
per? Miss Arabella thought it very unladylike to get 
out of temper. And what is done to grown people? " 

Uncle Leverett laughed and squeezed the soft little 
hands on his knee. Yes, men and women flew into 
a rage every day. Their strict training had not given 
them control of their tempers. It had not made them 



A MORNING AT SCHOOL. 69 

all honest and truthful. Yet it might have been the best 
training for the times, for the heroic duties laid upon 
them. 

" She was very cross once, and her forehead all 
wrinkled up, and her eyes were so so hard; and when 
she is pleasant she has beautiful brown eyes. I like 
beautiful people." 

" We can't all be beautiful or good-tempered." 

" But Miss Arabella said we could, and that beauty 
meant sweetness and grace and truth and kindliness, 
and that " she lowered her voice mysteriously 
" where one really tried to be good God gave them grace 
to help. I don't quite know about the grace, I'm so 
little. But I want to be good." 

Was there a beautiful side to goodness? Foster Lev- 
erett had been for some time weakening in the old faith. 

" Now I'm ready," exclaimed Betty briskly. " We 
can say tables without any book." 

Uncle Leverett laughed and squeezed the soft little 
stranger at his hearth. But affection was not demon 
strative in those days, and it looked rather weak in a 
man. 

They had grand fun saying addition and multiplication 
tables. They went up to the fives, and Doris found that 
here was a wonderful bridge. 

" You could add clear up to a hundred without any 
trouble," the child declared gleefully. " But you 
couldn't multiply." 

" Why, yes," said Betty. " I had not exactly thought 
of it before. Five times thirteen would be sixty-five, and 
so on. Five times twenty would be a hundred. Why, 
we do it in a great many things, but I suppose they 
whoever invented tables thought that was far enough to 
go." 

" Who did invent them? " 



70 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

" I really don't know. Doris, we will ask Uncle Win 
when he comes over. He knows about everything." 

" It would take a great many years to learn every 
thing," said the child with a sigh. 

" But the knowledge goes round," said Betty with 
arch gayety. " One has a little and the other a little 
and they exchange, and then women don't have to know 
as much as men." 

" I'd like to see the man that knew enough to keep 
house," declared Mrs. Leverett. " And didn't Mrs. Abi 
gail Adams farm and bring up her children and pay off 
debts while her husband was at congress and war and 
abroad? It isn't so much book learning as good com 
mon sense. Just think what the old Revolutionary 
women did! And now it is high time Doris went to 
bed. Come, child, you're so sleepy in the morning." 

Doris had her dress unbuttoned and untied her 
shoes to make sure there were no knots to pick 
out. Knots in shoe-strings were very perplexing at this 
period when no one had dreamed of button boots. I 
doubt, indeed, if anyone would have worn them. The 
shoes were made straight and changed every morning, 
so as to wear evenly and not get walked over at the side. 
And people had pretty feet then, with arched insteps, and 
walked with an air of dignity. Some of the gouty old 
men had to be measured for a tender place here or a 
protuberance there, or allowance made for bad corn. 

Doris said good-night and went upstairs. Miss Ara 
bella had always kissed her. Betty did sometimes, and 
said " What a sweet little thing you are! " or " What a 
queer little thing you are! " She said her prayers, hung 
her clothes over a chair, put her little shoes just right for 
morning, and stepping on the chair round vaulted over 
to her side of the bed. 

What a long, long day it had been ! The most beauti- 



A MORNING AT SCHOOL. 71 

ful thing in it was the big cat Solomon, and if she could 
nurse him she shouldn't be very much afraid of Aunt 
Priscilla. Oh, how soft his fur was, and how he purred, 
just as if he was glad she had come! Perhaps he some 
times tired of Aunt Priscilla and black Polly, and longed 
for a little girl who didn't mind sitting on the floor, and 
who knew how to play. 

Then there was the spelling, and she tried to think over 
the hard words, and the tables, and her small brain kept 
up such a riot that she was not a bit sleepy. 

Betty brought out her work after lighting another 
candle. Mr. Leverett sat and dozed and thought. 
When Warren had finished up the chores he went around 
to the other side of Betty's table, and was soon lost in a 
history of the French War. When the tall old clock 
struck nine it was time to prepare for bed. 

Betty was putting up some wisps of hair in tea leads, 
when Doris sat up. 

" Oh, you midget! Are you not asleep yet? " she ex 
claimed. 

" No. I've been thinking of everything. And, Betty, 
can you go to the party? I went to the May party when 
I was home, but that was out of doors, and we danced 
round the May pole." 

" The party " 

"Yes, did you ask Aunt Elizabeth?" eagerly. 

" Oh, no. I wasn't going to be caught that way. She 
would have had time to think up ever so many excellent 
reasons why I shouldn't go. And now Mrs. Morse will 
take her by surprise, and she will not have any good 
excuse ready and so she will give in." 

" But wouldn't she want you to go? " Doris was 
rather confused by the reasoning. 

" I suppose she thinks I am young to begin with par 
ties. But it isn't a regular grown-up affair. And I am 



72 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

just crazy to go. I'm so glad you did not blurt it out, 
Doris. I'll give you a dozen kisses for being so sensible. 
Now lie down and go to sleep this minute." 

The child gave a soft little laugh, and a moment later 
Betty was " cuddling " her in her arms. 

The result of Foster Leverett's cogitation over the fire 
led him to say the next morning to his son : 

" Warren, you run on. I have a little errand to do." 

He turned in another direction and went down two 
squares. There was Mrs. Webb sweeping off her front 
porch and plank path. 

" Good-morning," stopping and leaning on her broom 
as he halted. 

" I'm glad to see you, Mrs. Webb. I suppose the little 
girl wasn't much trouble yesterday. She's never been to 
school before." 

"Trouble! Bless you, no. If they were all as good 
as that I should feel frightened, I really should, thinking 
they wouldn't live long. She's a bit timid " 

" She's backward in some things figures, for instance. 
And a little strange, I suppose. So if you would be kind 
of easy-going with her until she gets settled to the 
work " 

" Oh, you needn't be a mite afraid, Mr. Leverett. 
She's smart in some things, but, you see, she's been run 
on different lines, and we'll get straight presently. She's 
a nice obedient little thing, and I do like to see children 
mind at the first bidding." 

" Your school is so near we thought we would try 't 
this winter. Yes, I think all will go right. Good-morn 
ing," and his heart lightened at the thought of smoothing 
the way for Doris. 



A BIRTHDAY PARTY. 73 

CHAPTER VI. 

A BIRTHDAY PARTY. 

p\ORIS sat in the corner studying. Betty had gone 
*^ over to Mme. Sheafe's to make sure she had her lace 
stitch just right. They had been ironing and baking all 
the morning, and now Mrs. Leverett had attacked her 
pile of shirts, when Mrs. Morse came in. She had her 
work as well. Everybody took work, for neighborly 
calls were an hour or two long. 

Doris had been presented first, a kind of attention paid 
to her because she was from across the ocean. Every 
body's health had been inquired about. 

" I came over on a real errand," began Mrs. Morse 
presently. " And you mustn't make excuses. My Jane 
is going to have a little company week from Thursday 
night. She will be seventeen, and we are going to have 
seventeen young people. The girls will come in the 
afternoon, and the young men at seven to tea. Then 
they will have a little merrymaking. And we want 
Warren and Betty. We are going to ask those we want 
the most first, and if so happen anything serious stands 
in the way, we'll take the next row." 

" You're very kind, I'm sure. Warren does go out 
among young people, but I don't know about Betty. 
She's so young." 

" Well, she will have to start sometime. My mother 
was married at sixteen, but that is too young to begin 
life, though she never regretted it, and she had a baker's 
dozen of children." 

" I'm not in any hurry about Betty. She is the last 
girl home. And the others were past nineteen when 
they were married." 



74 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

" We feel there is no hurry about Jane. But I've had 
a happy life, and all six of us girls were married. Not 
an old maid among us." 

" Old maids do come in handy oftentimes," subjoined 
Mrs. Leverett. 

Yet in those days every mother secretly, often openly, 
counted on her girls being married. The single woman 
had no such meed of respect paid her as the " bachelor 
maids " of to-day. She often went out as housekeeper 
in a widower's family, and took him and his children for 
the sake of having a home of her own. Still, there were 
some fine unmarried women. 

" Yes, they're handy in sickness and times when work 
presses, but they do get queer and opinionated from hav 
ing their own way, I suppose." 

Alas! what would the single woman, snubbed on 
every side, have said to that ! 

Then they branched into a chatty discussion about 
some neighbors, and as neither was an ill-natured woman, 
it was simply gossip and not scandal. Mrs. Morse had a 
new recipe for making soap that rendered it clearer and 
lighter than the old one and made better soap, she 
thought. And to-morrow she was going at her best 
candles, so as to be sure they would be hard and nice 
for the company. 

" But you haven't said about Betty? " 

" I'll have to think it over," was the rather cautious 
reply. 

" Elizabeth Leverett! I feel real hurt that you should 
hesitate, when our children have grown up together ! " 
exclaimed Mrs. Morse rather aggrieved. 

" It's only about putting Betty forward so much. 
Why, you know I don't mind her running in and out. 
She's at your house twice as often as Jane is here. And 
when girls begin to go to parties there's no telling just 



A BIRTHDAY PARTY. 75 

where to draw the line. It's very good of you to ask 
her. Yes, I do suppose she ought to go. The girls 
have been such friends." 

"Jane would feel dreadfully disappointed. She said: 
' Now, mother, you run over to the Leveretts' first of all, 
because I want to be sure of Betty.' " 

" Well I'll have to say yes. Next Thursday. There's 
nothing to prevent that I know of. I suppose it isn't to 
be a grand dress affair, for I hadn't counted on making 
Betty any real party gown this winter? I don't believe 
she's done growing. Who else did you have in your 
mind, if it isn't a secret? " 

" I'd trust it to you, anyhow. The two Stephens girls 
and Letty Rowe, Sally Prentiss and Agnes Green. That 
makes six, with Betty. We haven't quite decided on 
the others. I dare say some of the girls will be mad 
as hornets at being left out, but there can be only nine. 
Of course we do not count Jane." 

These were all very nice girls of well-to-do families. 
Mrs. Leverett did feel a little proud that Betty should 
head the list. 

" They are all to bring their sewing. I had half a 
mind to put on a quilt, but I knew there'd be a talk right 
away about Jane marrying, and she has no steady 
company. I tell her she can't have until she is 
eighteen." 

" That's plenty young enough. I don't suppose there 
will be any dancing?" 

" They've decided on proverbs and forfeits. Cousin 
Morris is coming round to help the boys plan it out. 
Are you real set against dancing, Elizabeth?" 

" Well I'm afraid we are going on rather fast, and 
will get to be too trifling. I can't seem to make up my 
mind just what is right. Foster thinks we have been too 
strait-laced." 



76 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

" I danced when I was young, and I don't see as it 
hurt me any. And some of the best young people here 
about are going to a dancing class this winter. Joseph 
has promised to join it, and his father said he was old 
enough to decide for himself." 

Mrs. Morse had finished her sewing and folded it, 
quilting her needle back and forth, putting her thimble 
and spool of cotton inside and slipping it in her work 
bag. Then she rose and wrapped her shawl about her 
and tied on her hood. 

" Then we may count on Warren and Betty? Give 
them my love and Jane's, and say we shall be happy to 
see them a week from Thursday, Betty at three and War 
ren at seven. Come over soon, do." 

When she had closed the door on her friend Mrs. 
Leverett glanced over to the corner where Doris sat with 
her book. She had half a mind to ask her not to men 
tion the call to Betty, then she shrank from anything so 
small. 

Doris studied and she sewed. Then Betty came in 
flushed and pretty. 

" I didn't have the stitch quite right," she said to her 
mother. " And I have been telling her about Doris. 
She wants me to bring her over some afternoon. She is 
a little curious to see what kind of lace Doris makes. 
She has a pillow I should call it a cushion." 

" Doris ought to learn plain sewing " 

" Poor little mite! How your cares will increase. 
Can I take her over to Mme. Sheafe's some day? " 

" If there is ever any time," with a sigh. 

" Do you know your spelling? " She flew over to 
Doris and asked a question with her eyes, and Doris an 
swered in the same fashion, though she had a fancy that 
she ought not. Betty took her book aiwi found that 
Doris knew all but two words. 



A BIRTHDAY PARTY. 77 

" If I could only do sums as easily," she said, with a 
plaintive sound in her voice. 

" Oh, you will learn. You can't do everything in a 
moment, or your education would soon be finished." 

"What is Mme. Sheafe like?" she asked with some 
curiosity, thinking of Aunt Priscilla. 

" She is a very splendid, tall old lady. She ought to 
be a queen. And she was quite rich at one time, but she 
isn't now, and she lives in a little one-story cottage that 
is just like well, full of curious and costly things. And 
now she gives lessons in embroidery and lace work, and 
hemstitching and fine sewing, and she wears the most 
beautiful gowns and laces and rings." 

" Your tongue runs like a mill race, Betty." 

" I think everybody in Boston is tall," said Doris with 
quaint consideration that made both mother and daugh 
ter laugh. 

" You see, there is plenty of room in the country to 
grow," explained Betty. 

" Can I do some sums? " 

" Oh, yes." 

Plainly, figures were a delusion and a snare to little 
Doris Adams. They went astray so easily, they would 
not add up in the right amounts. Mrs. Webb did not 
like the children to count their fingers, though some of 
them were very expert about it. When the child got in 
among the sevens, eights, and nines she was wild with 
helplessness. 

Supper time came. This was Warren's evening for 
the debating society, which even then was a great enter 
tainment for the young men. There would be plenty of 
time to give them the invitation. Mrs. Leverett was 
sorry she had consented to Betty's going, but it would 
have made ill friends. 

The next day Mrs. Hollis Leverett, the eldest son's 



78 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

wife, came up to spend the day, with her two younger 
children. Doris was not much used to babies, but she 
liked the little girl. The husband came up after supper 
and took them home in a carryall. Doris was tired and 
sleepy, and couldn't stop to do any sums. 

Betty was folding up her work, and Warren yawning 
over his book, when Mrs. Leverett began in a rather 
jerky manner: 

" Mrs. Morse was in and invited you both to Jane's 
birthday party next Thursday night." 

" Yes, I saw Joe in the street to-day, and he told me," 
replied Warren. 

" I said I'd see about you, Betty. You are quite too 
young to begin party-going." 

" Why, I suppose it's just a girl's frolic," said her 
father, wincing suddenly. " They can't help having 
birthdays. Betty will be begging for a party next." 

" She won't get it this year," subjoined her mother 
dryly. " And, by the looks of things, we have no money 
to throw away." 

Betty looked a little startled. She had wanted so to 
really question Doris, but it did not seem quite the thing 
to do. And perhaps she was not to go, after all. She 
would coax her father and Warren, she would do almost 
anything. 

Warren settled it as they were going up to bed. His 
mother was in the kitchen, mixing pancakes for break 
fast, and he caught Betty's hand. 

" Of course you are to go," he said. " Mother doesn't 
believe in dealing out all her good things at once. I 
wish you had something pretty to wear. It's going to 
be quite fine." 

" Oh, dear," sighed Betty. " Jane has such pretty 
gowns. But of course I have only been a little school 
girl until this year, and somehow it is very hard for the 



A BIRTHDAY PARTY. 79 

mothers to think their girls are grown-up in any respect 
except that of work." 

Warren sighed as well, and secretly wished he had a 
regular salary, and could do what he liked with a little 
money. His father was training him to take charge of 
his own business later on. He gave him his board and 
clothing and half a dollar a week for spending money. 
When he was twenty-one there would be a new basis, of 
course. There was not much call for money unless one 
was rich enough to be self-indulgent. One couldn't 
spend five cents for a trolley ride, even if there was a 
downpour of rain. And as Mr. Leverett had never 
smoked, he had routed the first indications of any such 
indulgence on the part of his son. 

The amusements were still rather simple, neighborly 
affairs. The boys and girls "spent an evening" with each 
other and had hickory nuts, cider, and crullers that had 
found their way from Holland to Boston as well as New 
York. And when winter set in fairly there was sledding 
and skating and no end of jest and laughter. Many a 
decorous love affair sprang into shy existence, taking a 
year or two for the young man to be brave enough to 
" keep company," if there were no objections on either 
side. And this often happened to be a walk home from 
church and an hour's sitting by the family fireside taking 
part in the general conversation. 

To be sure, there was the theater. Since 1798, when 
the Federal Street Theater had burned down and been 
rebuilt and opened with a rather celebrated actress of 
that period, Mrs. Jones, theater-going was quite the 
stylish amusement of the quality. Mr. Leverett and his 
wife had gone to the old establishment, as it was begin 
ning to be called, to see the tragedy of " Gustavus Vasa," 
that had set Boston in a furore. They were never quite 
settled on the point of the sinfulness of the pleasure. In- 



8o A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

deed, Mr. Leverett evinced symptoms of straying away 
from the old landmarks of faith. He had even gone to 
the preaching of that reprehensible young man, Mr. 
Hosea Ballou, who had opened new worlds of thought 
for his consideration. 

" It's a beautiful belief," Mrs. Leverett admitted, " but 
whether you can quite square it with Bible truth " 

" I'm not so sure you can square the Westminster 
Catechism either." 

" If you must doubt, Foster, do be careful before the 
children. I'm not sure but the old-fashioned religion is 
best. It made good men and women." 

" Maybe if you had been brought up a Quaker you 
wouldn't have seen the real goodness of it. Isn't belief 
largely a matter of habit and education? Mind, I don't 
say religion. That is really the man's life, his daily 
endeavor." 

" Well, we won't argue." She felt that she could not, 
and was ashamed that she was not more strongly forti 
fied. " And do be careful before the children." 

Her husband was a good, honest, upright man a 
steady churchgoer and zealous worker in many ways. 
The intangible change to liberalness puzzled her. If 
you gave up one point, would there not be a good reason 
for giving up another? 

Neither could she quite explain why she should feel 
more anxious about Betty than she had felt about the 
girlhood of the two elder daughters. 

Of course Warren accepted the invitations for himself 
and his sister. If her new white frock was only done! 
She had outgrown her last summer's gowns. There was 
a pretty embroidered India muslin that her sister Electa 
had given her. If she might put a ruffle around the bot 
tom of the skirt. 

Aunt Priscilla came over and had her cup of tea so 



A BIRTHDAY PARTY. 81 

she could get back before dark. She was still afraid of 
the damp night air. Aunt Priscilla had a trunk full of 
pretty things she had worn in her early married life. If 
she, Betty, could be allowed to " rummage " through it! 

Saturday was magnificent with a summer softness in 
the air, and the doors could be left open. There were 
sweeping and scrubbing and scouring and baking. 
Doris was very anxious to help, and was allowed to seed 
some raisins. It wasn't hard, but " putterin' " work, and 
took a good deal of time. 

But after dinner Uncle Winthrop came in his chaise 
with his pretty spirited black mare Juno. It was such a 
nice day, and he had to go up to the North End on some 
business. There wouldn't be many such days, and Doris 
might like a ride. 

There was a flash of delight in the child's eyes. Betty 
went to help her get ready. 

" You had better put on her coat, for it's cooler rid 
ing," said Mrs. Leverett. " And by night it may turn 
off cold. A fall day like this is hardly to be trusted." 

" But it is good while it lasts," said Uncle Win, with 
his soft half-smile. " Elizabeth, don't pattern after Aunt 
Priscilla, who can't enjoy to-day because there may be 
a storm to-morrow." 

" I don't know but we are too ready to cross bridges 
before we come to them," she admitted. 

" A beautiful day goes to my inmost heart. I want to 
enjoy every moment of it." 

Doris came in with her eager eyes aglow, and Betty 
followed her to the chaise, and said: 

" Don't run away with her, Uncle Win; I can't spare 
her." 

That made Doris look up and laugh, she was so happy. 

They drove around into Hanover Street and then 
through Wing's Lane. There were some very nice 



82 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

lanes and alleys then that felt quite as dignified as the 
streets, and were oftentimes prettier. He was going to 
Dock Square to get a little business errand off his mind. 

" You won't be afraid to sit here alone? I will fasten 
Juno securely." 

" Oh, no," she replied, and she amused herself glanc 
ing about. People were mostly through with their busi 
ness Saturday afternoon. It had a strange aspect to her, 
however it was so different from the town across the 
seas. Some of the streets were so narrow she wondered 
how the horses and wagons made their way, and was 
amazed that they did not run over the pedestrians, who 
seemed to choose the middle of the street as well. Many 
of the houses had a second story overhanging the first, 
which made the streets look still narrower. 

" Now we will go around and see the queer old 
things," exclaimed Uncle Win, as he jumped into the 
chaise. " For we have some interesting points of view. 
A hundred years seems a good while to us new people. 
And already streets are changing, houses are being torn 
down. There are some curious things you will like to 
remember. Did Warren tell you about Paul Revere? " 

" Oh, yes. How he hung the lantern out of the 
church steeple." 

" And this was where he started from. More than 
thirty years ago that was, and I was a young fellow just 
arrived at man's estate. Still it was a splendid time to 
live through. We will have some talks about it in the 
years to come." 

" Did you fight, Uncle Win? " 

" I am not much of a war hero, though we were used 
for the defense of Boston. You are too young to under 
stand all the struggle." 

Doris studied the old house. It was three stories, 
the upper windows seeming just under the roof. On the 



A BIRTHDAY PARTY. 83 

ground floor there was a store, with two large windows, 
where Paul Revere had carried on his trade of silver 
smith and engraver on copper. There was a broken 
wire netting before one window, and quite an elaborate 
hallway for the private entrance, as many people lived 
over their shops. 

Long afterward Doris Adams was to be interested in 
a poet who told the story of Paul Revere's ride in such 
vivid, thrilling words that he was placed in the list of 
heroes that the world can never forget. But it had not 
seemed such a great deed then. 

Old North Square had many curious memories. It 
had been a very desirable place of residence, though it 
was dropping down even now. There were quaint ware 
houses and oddly constructed shops, taverns with queer 
names almost washed out of the signs by the storms of 
many winters. There were the " Red Lion " and the 
" King's Arms " and other names that smacked of Lon 
don and had not been overturned in the Revolution. 
Here had stood the old Second Church that General 
Howe had caused to be pulled down for firewood during 
the siege of Boston, the spot rendered sacred by the ser 
mon of many a celebrated Mather. And here had re 
sided Governor Thomas Hutchinson, who would have 
been sacrificed to the fury of the mob for his Tory pro 
clivities during the Stamp Act riot but for his brother- 
in-law, the Rev. Samuel Mather, who faced the mob and 
told them " he should protect the Governor with his life, 
even if their sentiments were totally dissimilar." And 
when he came to open court the next morning he had 
neither gown nor wig, very important articles in that 
day. For the wigs had long curling hair, and those who 
wore them had their hair cropped close, like malefactors. 

And here was the still stately Frankland House, whose 
romance was to interest Doris deeply a few years hence 



84 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

and to be a theme for poet and novelist. But now she 
was a good deal amused when her uncle told her of a 
Captain Kemble in the days of Puritan rule who, after a 
long sea voyage, was hurrying up the Square, when his 
wife, who had heard the vessel was sighted, started to go 
to the landing. As they met the captain took her in his 
arms and kissed her, and was punished for breaking the 
Sabbath day by being put in the stocks. 

" But did they think it so very wrong? " Her face 
grew suddenly grave. 

" I suppose they did. They had some queer ideas in 
those days. They thought all exhibitions of affection 
out of place." 

Doris looked thoughtfully out to the harbor. Perhaps 
that was the reason no one but Betty kissed her. 

Then they drove around to the Green Dragon. This 
had been a famous inn, where, in the early days, the 
patriots came to plan and confer and lay their far-reach 
ing schemes. It was said they went from here to the 
famous Tea Party. Uncle Winthrop repeated an amus 
ing rhyme: 

" ' Rally, Mohocks, bring out your axes, 
And tell King George we'll pay no taxes 

On his foreign tea. 

His threats are vain, he need not think 
To force our wives and girls to drink, 

His vile Bohea.'" 

" I shouldn't like to be forced to drink it," said Doris, 
with a touch of repugnance in her small face. 

" It does better when people get old and queer," said 
Uncle Winthrop. " Then they want some comfort. 
They smoke at least, the men do and drink tea. Now 
you can see the veritable Green Dragon." 

The house was low, with small, oldtime dormer win 
dows. The dragon hung out over the doorway. He 



A BIRTHDAY PARTY. 85 

was made of copper painted green, his two hind feet rest 
ing on a bar that swung out of the house, his wings 
spread out as well as his front feet, and he looked as if 
he really could fly. Out of his mouth darted a red 
tongue. 

" He is dreadful ! " exclaimed Doris. 

" Oh, he doesn't look as fierce now as I have seen him. 
A coat of paint inspires him with new courage." 

" Then I am glad they have not painted him up lately. 
Uncle Win, is there any such thing as a real dragon? 
Of course I've read about St. George and the dragon," 
and she raised her eyes with a perplexed light in them. 

" I think we shall have to relegate dragons to the 
mythical period, or the early ages. I have never seen 
one any nearer than that old fellow, or with any more 
life in him. There are many queer signs about, and 
queer corners, but I think now we will go over to Salem 
Street and look at some of the pretty old houses, and then 
along the Mill Pond. Warren took you up Copp's 
Hill?" 

" Oh, yes." 

" You see, you must know all about Boston. It will 
take a long while. Next summer we will have drives 
around here and there." 

"Oh, that will be delightful!" and she smiled with 
such a sweet grace that he began to count on it himself. 

The sun was going over westward in a soft haze that 
wrapped every leafless tree and seemed to caress the 
swaying vines into new life. The honeysuckles had not 
dropped all their leaves, and the evergreens were taking 
on their winter tint. On some of the wide lawns groups 
of children were playing, and their voices rang out full 
of mirth and merriment. Doris half wished she were 
with them. If Betty was only twelve instead of sixteen! 

The Mill Pond seemed like a great bay. The placid 



86 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

water (there was no wind to ruffle it) threw up marvelous 
reflections and glints of colors from the sky above, and 
the sun beyond that was now a globe of softened flame, 
raying out lance-like shapes of greater distinctness 
and then melting away to assume some new form or 
color. 

Doris glanced up at Uncle Winthrop. It was as if she 
felt it all too deeply for any words. He liked the silence 
and the wordless enjoyment in her face. 

" We won't go home just yet," he said. They were 
crossing Cold Lane and could have gone down Sud- 
bury Street. " It is early and we will go along Green 
Lane and then down to Cambridge Street. You are not 
tired?" 

" Oh, no. I think I never should be tired with you, 
Uncle Winthrop," she returned with grave sweetness, 
quite unconscious of the delicate compliment implied. 

What was there about this little girl that went so to 
his heart? 

" Uncle Winthrop," she began presently, while a soft 
pink flush crept up to the edge of her hair, " I heard you 
and Uncle Leverett talking about some money the first 
night you were over wasn't it my money? " 

" Yes, I think so," with a little dryness in his tone. 
What made her think about money just now, and with 
that almost ethereal face! 

" Is it any that I could have just a little of it? " hesi 
tatingly. 

" Why? Haven't you all the things you want? " 

"I? Oh, yes. I shouldn't know what to wish for 
unless it was someone to talk French with," and there 
was a sweet sort of wistfulness in her tone. 

" I think I can supply that want. Why we might 
have been talking French half the afternoon. Do you 
want some French books? Is that it?" 



A BIRTHDAY PARTY. 87 

" No, sir." There was a lingering inflection in her 
tone that missed satisfaction. 

" Are you not happy at Cousin Leverett's? " 

" Happy? Oh, yes." She glanced up in a little sur 
prise. " But the money would be to make someone else 
happy." 

" Ah ! " He nodded encouragingly. 

" Betty is going to a party." 

" And she has been teasing her mother for some 
finery?" 

" She hasn't any pretty gown. I thought this all up 
myself, Uncle Win. Miss Arabella has such quantities 
of pretty clothes, and they are being saved up for me. 
If she was here I should ask her, but I couldn't get it, 
you know, by Thursday." 

She gave a soft laugh at the impossibility, as if it was 
quite ridiculous. 

" And you want it for her? " 

" She's so good to me, Uncle Win. For although I 
know some things quite well, there are others in which 
I am very stupid. A little girl in school said yesterday 
that I was ' dreadful dumb, dumber than a goose.' 
Aunt Elizabeth said a goose was so dumb that if it came 
in the garden through a hole in the fence it never could 
find it again to get out." 

" That is about the truth," laughed Uncle Win. 

" I couldn't get along in arithmetic if it wasn't for 
Betty. She's so kind and tells me over and over again. 
And I can't do anything for Aunt Elizabeth, because I 
don't know how, and it takes most of my time to study. 
But if I could give Betty a gown Miss Arabella went 
to so many parties when she was young. If I was there 
I know she would consent to give Betty one gown." 

Uncle Winthrop thought of a trunk full of pretty 
gowns that had been lying away many a long year. He 



88 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

couldn't offer any of those to Betty. And that wouldn't 
be a gift from Doris. 

" I wonder what would be nice? An old fellow like 
me would not know about a party gown." 

" Warren would. He and Betty talked a little about 
it last night. And that made me think but it didn't 
come into my mind until a few moments ago that maybe 
there would be enough of my own money to buy one." 

Doris glanced at him with such wistful entreaty that 
he felt he could not have denied her a much greater 
thing. He remembered, too, that Elizabeth Leverett 
had refused to take any compensation for Doris, this 
winter at least, and he had been thinking how to make 
some return. 

" Yes, I will see Warren. And we will surprise 
Betty. But perhaps her mother would be a better 
judge." 

" I think Aunt Elizabeth doesn't quite want Betty to 
go, although she told Mrs. Morse she should." 

"Oh, it's at the Morses'? Well, they are very nice 
people. And young folks do go to parties. Yes, we will 
see about the gown." 

" Uncle Winthrop, you are like the uncles in fairy 
stories. I had such a beautiful fairy book at home, but 
it must have been mislaid." 

She put her white-mittened hand over his driving 
glove, but he felt the soft pressure with a curious thrill. 

They went through Cambridge Street and Hilier's 
Lane and there they were at home. 

" It has been lovely," she said with a happy sigh as he 
lifted her out. Then she reached up from the stepping- 
stone and kissed him. 

" It isn't Sunday," she said naively, " and it is because 
you are so good to me. And this isn't North Square." 

He laughed and gave her a squeeze. Cousin Eliza- 



ABOUT A GOWN. 89 

beth came out and wished him a pleasant good-night as 
he drove away. 

What a charming little child she was, so quaintly sen 
sible, and with a simplicity and innocence that went to 
one's heart. How would Recompense Gardiner regard 
a little girl like that? He would have her over some 
time for a day and they would chatter in French. Per 
haps he had better brush up his French a little. Then 
he smiled, remembering she had called herself stupid, and 
he was indignant that anyone should pronounce her 
dumb. 

CHAPTER VII. 

ABOUT A GOWN. 

C ATURDAY evening was already quiet at the Lev- 
eretts'. Elizabeth had been brought up to regard 
it as the beginning of the Sabbath instead of the end of 
the week. People were rather shocked then when you 
said Sunday, and quite forgot the beautiful significance 
of the Lord's Day. Aunt Priscilla still believed in the 
words of the Creation: that the evening and the morn 
ing were the first day. In Elizabeth's early married life 
she had kept it rigorously. All secular employments had 
been put by, and the children had studied and recited the 
catechism. But as they changed into men and women 
other things came between. Then Mr. Leverett grew 
" lax " and strayed off after other gods, she thought at 
first. 

He softened noticeably. He had a pitiful side for the 
poor and all those in trouble. Elizabeth declared he 
used no judgment or discrimination. 

He opened the old Bible and put his finger on a verse: 
''While we have time let us do good unto all men; 



90 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

and especially unto them that are of the household of 
faith." 

" You see," he said gravely, " the household of faith 
isn't put first, it is ' all men.' " 

She was reading the Bible, not as a duty but a delight, 
skipping about for the sweetness of it. And she found 
many things that her duty reading had overlooked. 

The children did not repeat the catechism any more. 
She had been considering whether it was best to set 
Doris at it; but Doris knew her own catechism, and 
Cousin Winthrop was a Churchman, so perhaps it 
wasn't wise to meddle. She took Doris to church 
with her. 

Now, on Saturday evening work was put away. War 
ren was trying to read " Paradise Lost." He had parsed 
out of it at school. Now and then he dropped into the 
very heart of things, but he had not a poetical tempera 
ment. His father enjoyed it very much, and was quite 
a reader of Milton's prose works. Betty had strayed off 
into history. Doris sat beside Uncle Leverett with her 
arms on his knee, and looked into the fire. What were 
they doing back in Old Boston? Aunt Elizabeth had 
already condemned the fairy stories as untrue, and there 
fore falsehoods, so Doris never mentioned them. The 
child, with her many changes and gentle nature, had de 
veloped a certain tact or adaptiveness, and loved pleas 
antness. She was just a little afraid of Aunt Elizabeth's 
sharpness. It was like a biting wind. She always made 
comparisons in her mind, and saw things in pictured sig 
nificance. 

It ran over many things now. The old house that 
had been patched and patched, and had one corner 
propped up from outside. The barn that was propped up 
all around and had a thatched roof that suggested an 
immense haystack. Old Barby crooning songs by the 



ABOUT A GOWN. 91 

kitchen fire, sweet old Miss Arabella with her great high 
cap and her snowy little curls. Why did Aunt Priscilla 
think curls wrong? She had a feeling Aunt Elizabeth 
did not quite approve of hers, but Betty said the Lord 
curled them in the beginning. How sweet Miss Ara 
bella must have been in her youth yes, she must surely 
have been young when she wore the pretty frocks and 
went to the king's palace! She always thought of her 
when she came to the verses in the Psalms about the 
king's daughters and their beautiful attire. If Betty 
could have had one of those! 

Her heart beat with unwonted joy as she remembered 
how readily Uncle Winthrop had consented to her wish. 
Oh, if the frock would be pretty! And if Betty would 
like it! She stole a glance or two at her. How queer 
to have a secret from Betty that concerned her so much. 
Of course people did not talk about clothes on Sunday, 
so there would be no temptation to tell, even if she had 
a desire, which she should not have. Monday morning 
everything would be in a hurry, for it was wash-day, and 
she would have to go over her lessons. Uncle Win said 
the gown would be at the house Monday noon. 

" What are you thinking of, little one? " 

Uncle Leverett put his hand over the small one and 
looked down at the face, which grew scarlet or was it 
the warmth of the fire? 

She laughed with a sudden embarrassment. 

" I've been to Old Boston," she said, " and to new 
Boston. And I have seen such sights of things." 

" You had better go to bed. And you have almost 
burned up your face sitting so close by the fire. It is 
bad for the eyes, too," said Aunt Elizabeth. 

She rose with ready obedience. 

" I think I'll go too," said Betty with a yawn. The 
history of the Reformation was dull and prosy. 



92 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

When Doris had said her prayers, and was climbing 
into bed, Betty kissed her good-night. 

" I'm awfully afraid Uncle Win will want you some 
day," she said. " And I just couldn't let you go. I wish 
you were my little sister." 

There was a service in the morning and the afternoon 
on Sunday. Uncle Leverett accompanied them in the 
morning. He generally went out in the evening, and 
often some neighbor came in. It was quite a social time. 

When Doris came home from school Monday noon 
Aunt Elizabeth handed her a package addressed to 
" Miss Doris Adams, from Mr. Winthrop Adams." 

" It is a new frock, I know," cried Betty laughingly. 
" And it is very choice. I can tell by the way it is 
wrapped. Open it quick! I'm on pins and needles." 

" It is a nice cord ; don't cut it," interposed Aunt 
Elizabeth. 

Betty picked out the knot. There was another wrap 
per inside, and this had on it " Miss Betty Leverett. 
From her little cousin, Doris Adams." 

Mr. Leverett came at Betty's exclamation and looked 
over her shoulder. 

" Are you sure it is for me? Here is a note from 
Uncle Win that is for you. Oh! oh! Doris, was this 
what you did Saturday?" 

A soft shimmering China silk slipped out of its folds 
and trailed on the floor. It was a lovely rather dullish 
blue, such as you see in old china, and sprays of flowers 
were outlined in white. Betty stood transfixed, and just 
glanced from one to the other. 

" Oh, do you like it? " cried Warren, impatient for the 
verdict. " Uncle Win asked me to go out and do an 
errand with him. I was clear amazed. But it's Doris' 
gift, and bought out of her own money. We looked 
over ever so many things. He said you wanted some- 



ABOUT A GOWN. 93 

thing young, not a grandmother gown. And we both 
settled upon this." 

Betty let it fall and clasped Doris in her arms. 

" Down on the dirty floor as if it was nothing worth 
while!" began Mrs. Leverett, while her husband picked 
up the slippery stuff and let it fall again until she took it 
out of his hands. " And do come to dinner! There's a 
potpie made of the cold meat, and it will all be cold to 
gether, for I took it up ever so long ago. And, Betty, 
you haven't put on any pickles. And get that quince 
sauce." 

" I don't know what to say." There were tears in 
Betty's eyes as she glanced at Doris. 

" Well, you can have all winter to say it in," rejoined 
her mother tartly. " And your father won't want to 
spend all winter waiting for his dinner." 

They had finished their washing early. By a little 
after ten everything was on the line, and now the morn 
ings had grown shorter, although you could piece them 
out with candlelight. Betty had suggested the cold 
meat should be made into a potpie, and now Mrs. Lev 
erett half wished she had kept to the usual wash-day din 
ner cold meat and warmed-over vegetables. She felt 
undeniably cross. She had not cordially acquiesced in 
Betty's going to the party. The best gown she had to 
wear was her gray cloth, new in the spring. It had 
been let down in the skirt and trimmed with some wine- 
colored bands Aunt Priscilla had brought her. It would 
be a good discipline for Betty to wear it. When she saw 
the other young girls in gayer attire, she would be morti 
fied if she had any pride. Just where proper pride be 
gan and improper pride ended she was not quite clear. 
Anyhow, it would check Betty's party-going this 
winter. And now all the nice-laid plans had come to 
grief. 



94 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

Doris stood still, feeling there was something not quite 
harmonious in the atmosphere. 

" You were just royal to think of it," said Warren, 
clasping both arms around Doris. " Uncle Win told 
me about it. And I hope you like our choice. Betty 
had a blue and white cambric, I think they called 
it, last summer, and she looked so nice in it, but it didn't 
wash well. Silk doesn't have to be washed. Oh, you 
haven't read your letter." 

Uncle Leverett had been folding and rolling the silk 
and laid it on a chair. The dinner came in just as Doris 
had read two or three lines of her note. 

" Aunt Elizabeth," when there was a little lull, 
" Uncle Winthrop says he will come up to supper 
to-night." 

" He seems very devoted, suddenly." 

"Well, why shouldn't he be devoted to the little 
stranger in his charge, if she isn't exactly within his 
gates? She is in ours." 

A flush crept up in Elizabeth Leverett's face. She did 
not look at Doris, but she felt the child's eyes were upon 
her wondering eyes, asking the meaning of this unusual 
mood. It was unreasonable as well. Elizabeth had a 
kindly heart, and she knew she was doing not only her 
self but Doris an injustice. She checked her rising dis 
pleasure. 

" I should have enjoyed seeing you and Uncle Win 
shopping," she said rather jocosely to Warren. 

Betty glanced up at that. The sky was clearing and 
the storm blowing over. But, oh, she had her pretty 
gown, come what might! 

" I don't believe but what I would have been a better 
judge than either of them," said Uncle Leverett. 

" Uncle Win wasn't really any judge at all," rejoined 
Warren laughingly. " He would have chosen the very 



ABOUT A GOWN. 95 

best there was, fine enough for a wedding gown. But 
I knew Betty liked blue, and that girls wanted some 
thing soft and delicate." 

" You couldn't have suited me any better," acknowl 
edged Betty, giving the chair that held her treasure an 
admiring glance. " I shall have to study all the after 
noon to know what to say to Uncle Win. As for 
Doris " 

Doris was smiling now. If they were all pleased, 
that was enough. 

" I hope Uncle Win won't let you spend your money 
this way very often," said Uncle Leverett, " or you will 
have nothing left to buy silk gowns for yourself when 
you are a young woman." 

" Maybe no one will ever ask me to a party," said 
Doris simply. 

" I will give one in your honor," declared Warren. 
" Let me see in seven years you will be sixteen. I will 
save up a little money every year after I get my freedom 
suit." 

" Your freedom suit? " in a perplexed manner. 

" Yes when I am twenty-one. That will be next 
July." 

" You will have to buy her a silk gown as well," said 
his father with a twinkle of humor in his eye. 

" Then I shall strike for higher wages." 

" We shall have a new President and we will see what 
that brings about. The present method is simply 
ruinous." 

The dinner was uncommonly good, if it had been made 
of cooked-over meat. And the pie was delicious. Any 
woman who could make a pie like that, and have the 
custard a perfect cream, ought to be the happiest woman 
alive. 

Mr. Leverett followed his wife out in the kitchen, and 



96 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

gave the door a push with his foot. But the three young 
people were so enthusiastic about the new gown, now 
that the restraint was removed, that they could not have 
listened. 

" Mother," he began, " don't spoil the little girl's good 
time and her pleasure in the gift." 

" Betty did not need a silk gown. The other girls 
didn't have one until they were married. If I had con 
sidered it proper, I should have bought it myself." 

" But Winthrop hadn't the heart to refuse Doris." 

" If he means to indulge every whim and fancy she'll 
spend everything she has before she is fairly grown. 
She's too young to understand and she has been brought 
up so far in an irresponsible fashion. Generosity is 
sometimes foolishness." 

" You wouldn't catch Hollis' little boy spending his 
money on anyone," and Sam's grandfather laughed. 
Sam was bright and shrewd, smart at his books and 
good at a barter. He had a little money out at interest 
already. Mr. Leverett had put it in the business, and 
every six months Sam collected his interest on the mark. 

" Winthrop isn't as slack as you sometimes think. He 
could calculate compound interest to a fraction. 

" I'm glad someone has a little forethought," was the 
rather tart reply. 

" Winthrop isn't as slack as you sometimes think. He 
doesn't like business, but he has a good head for it. And 
he will look out for Doris. He is mightily interested in 
her too. But if you must scold anyone, save it for him 
to-night, and let Doris be happy in her gift." 

" Am I such a scold? " 

" You are my dear helpmeet." He put his arm over 
her shoulder and kissed her. People were not very 
demonstrative in those days, and their affection spoke 
oftener in deeds than words. In fact, they thought the 



ABOUT A GOWN. 97 

words betrayed a strand of weakness. " There, I must 
be off," he added. " Come, Warren," opening the door. 
" Meade will think we have had a turkey dinner and 
stayed to polish the bones." 

Betty had been trying the effect of trailing silk and 
enjoying her brother's admiration. Now she folded it 
again decorously, and began to pile up the cups and 
plates, half afraid to venture into the kitchen lest her 
dream of delight should be overshadowed by a cloud. 

Mrs. Leverett was doing a sober bit of thinking. 
How much happiness ought one to allow one's self in 
this vale of tears? Something she had read last night 
recurred to her " Inasmuch as ye have done it unto 

the least of these " Done what? Fed bodies and 

warmed and clothed them. And what of the hungry 
longing soul? All her life she had had a good tender 
husband. And now, when he had strayed from the faith 
a little, he seemed dearer and nearer than ever before. 
God had given her a great deal to be thankful for. Five 
fine children who had never strayed out of the paths of 
rectitude. Of course, she had always given the credit to 
their " bringing up." And here was a little girl reared 
quite differently, sweet, wholesome, generous, painstak 
ing, and grateful for every little favor. 

Astute Betty sent Doris in as an advance guard. 

" You may take the dish of spoons, and I'll follow with 
the cups and saucers." 

Aunt Elizabeth looked up and half smiled. 

" You and Uncle Win have been very foolish," she 
began, but her tone was soft, as if she did not wholly be 
lieve what she was saying. " I shall save my scolding 
for him, and I think Betty will have to train you in 
figures all winter long to half repay for such a beautiful 
gift." 

" Oh, Aunt Elizabeth, I thought of it, you know," she 



98 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

cried in sweet eagerness, " and if there is anything 
wrong " 

" There isn't anything wrong, dear." Mrs. Leverett 
stooped and kissed her. " I don't know as Betty needed 
a silk gown, for many a girl doesn't have one until she is 
married. I shall have to keep a sharp eye on you and 
Uncle Win hereafter." 

Betty went back and forth. The dishes were washed 
and the kitchen set to rights, while the bits of talk flowed 
pleasantly. 

" I think I will iron this afternoon," announced Betty. 
" I see some of the clothes are dry. Didn't you mean to 
go and see about the carpet, mother? " 

" I had thought of it. I want to have my warp dyed 
blue and orange, and some of the rags colored. Mrs. 
Jett does it so well, and she's so needy I thought I would 
give her all the work. Your father said I had better. 
And she might dip over that brown frock of yours. The 
piece of new can go with it so it will all be alike." 

Betty wanted to lift up her heart in thanksgiving. 
The dyeing tub was her utter abomination it took so 
long for the stain to wear out of your hands. 

" Well if you like." This referred to the ironing. 
" I don't know how you'll get your gown done." 

" I might run over and get some patterns from Jane, 
if I get through in time," suggested Betty. For a hor 
rible fear had entered her mind that her mother's ac 
ceptance of the fact foreboded some delay in the making. 

" Don't go until I get back." 

" Oh, no." 

Betty took down the clothes and folded them. They 
were just right to iron. She arranged her table, and 
Doris brought her books and sat at one end. 

" It would be so much nicer to talk about the party," 
she said gravely, " but the lessons are so hard. Oh, 



ABOUT A GOWN. 99 

Betty, do you think I shall ever be smart like other girls? 
I feel ashamed sometimes. My figures are just dread 
ful. Robert Lane said this morning they looked like 
hen tracks. His are beautiful. And he is only seven 
years old. Oh, dear!" 

" Robbie has been at school three years. Wait until 
you have been a year! " 

" And writing. Oh, Betty, when will I be able to 
write a letter to Miss Arabella? Now, if you could talk 
across the ocean ! " 

" The idea! One would have to scream pretty loud, 
and then it wouldn't go a mile." Betty threw her head 
back and laughed. 

But Doris was to live long enough to talk across the 
ocean, though no one really dreamed of it then; indeed, 
at first it was quite ridiculed. 

" It is a nice thing to know a good deal, but it is awful 
hard to learn," said the little girl presently. 

" Now, it seems to me I never could learn French. 
And when you rattle it off in the way you do, I am dumb 
founded." 

" What is that, Betty? " 

Betty flushed and laughed. " Surprised or anything 
like that," she returned. 

" But, you see, I learned to talk and read just as you 
do English. And then papa being English, why I had 
both languages. It was very easy." 

" Patience and perseverance will make this easy." 

" And I can't knit a stocking nor make a shirt. And 
I haven't pieced a bedspread nor worked a sampler. 
Mary Green has a beautiful one, with a border of straw 
berries around the edge and forget-me-nots in the cor 
ner. Her father is going to have it framed." 

" Oh, you must not chatter so much. Begin and say 
some tables." 



ioo A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

" I know ' three times ' skipping all about. But when 
you get good and used one way you have to fly around 
some other way. I can say ' four times ' straight, but I 
have to think a little." 

" Now begin," said Betty. 

They seemed to run races, until Doris' cheeks were 
like roses and she was all out of breath. At last she ac 
complished the baleful four, skipping about. 

" Mrs. Webb said I must learn four and five this week. 
And five is easy enough. Now, will you hear me do 
some sums in addition?" 

She added aloud, and did quite well, Betty thought. 

" When I can make nice figures and do sums that are 
worth while, I am to have a book to put them in, Mrs. 
Webb says. What is worth while, Betty? " 

" Why it's it's a thing that is really worth doing 
well. I don't know everything," with a half-laughing 
sigh. 

Betty had all her pieces ironed before the lessons were 
learned. Doris thought ironing was easier. It finished 
up of itself, and there was nothing to come after. 

" Well there is mending," suggested Betty. 

" I know how to darn. I shall not have to learn that." 

" And you darn beautifully." 

While Mrs. Leverett was out she thought she would 
run down to Aunt Priscilla's a few moments, so it was 
rather late when she returned. But Betty had a pan of 
biscuits rising in the warmth of the fire. Then she was 
allowed to go over to the Morses' and tell Jane the won 
derful news. Uncle Winthrop walked up, so there 
would be no trouble about the horse; then, he had been 
writing all day, and needed some exercise. 

" And how did the silk suit? " he asked as he took both 
of the child's hands in his. 

" It was just beautiful. Betty was delighted, and so 



ABOUT A GOWN. 101 

surprised! Uncle Winthrop, isn't it a joyful thing to 
make people happy! " 

" Why I suppose it is," with a curious hesitation in 
his voice, as he glanced down into the shining eyes. He 
had not thought much of making anyone happy latterly. 
Indeed, he believed he had laid all the real joys of life in 
his wife's grave. He was proud of his son, of course, 
and he did everything for his advancement. But a 
simple thing like this! 

" We have been studying all the afternoon, Betty and 
I. She is so good to me. And to think, Uncle Win, she 
had read the Bible all through when she was eight years 
old, and made a shirt. All the little girls make one for 
their father. And he gave her a silver half-dollar with a 
hole in it, and she put a blue ribbon through it and 
means to keep it always. But I haven't any father. 
And I began to read the Bible on Sunday. It will take 
me two years," with a long sigh. " I used to read the 
Psalms to Miss Arabella, and there was a portion for 
every day. They are just a month long, when the month 
has thirty days." 

Her chatter was so pleasant. Several times through 
the day her soft voice had haunted him. 

Aunt Elizabeth came in with her big kitchen apron 
tied over her best afternoon gown. She didn't scold 
very hard, but she thought Uncle Win might better be 
careful of the small fortune coming to Doris, since she 
had neither father nor brother to augment it. And they 
would make Betty as vain as a peacock in all her finery. 

Betty returned laden with patterns and her eyes as 
bright as stars. Jane Morse had promised to come over 
in the morning and help her cut her gown. Jane was a 
very " handy " girl, and prided herself on knowing 
enough about " mantua making " to get her living if she 
had need. At that period nearly every family did the 



102 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

sewing of all kinds except the outside wear for men. 
And fashions were as eagerly sought for and discussed 
among the younger people as in more modern times. 
The old Puritan attire was still in vogue. Not so many 
years before the Revolution the Royalists' fashions, 
both English and French, had been adopted. But 
the cocked hats and scarlet coats, the flowing wigs 
and embroidered waistcoats, had been swept away by 
the Continental style. For women, high heels and 
high caps had run riot, and hoops and flowing trains 
of brocades and velvets and glistening silks. And now 
the wife of the First Consul of France was the Empress 
Josephine, and the Empire style had swept away the 
pompadour and everything else. It had the advantage 
of being more simple, though quite as costly. 

Uncle Win and Uncle Leverett talked politics after 
supper, one sitting one side of the chimney and one the 
other. Doris had gone over to Uncle Winthrop's side, 
and she wished she could be two little girls just for the 
evening. She was trying very hard to understand what 
they meant by the Embargo and the Non-Intercourse 
Act, and she learned they were going to have a new 
President in March. She did not think politics very in 
teresting she liked better to hear about the war that 
had begun more than thirty years ago. Uncle Leverett 
was quite sure there would be another war before they 
were done with it ; that all the old questions had not been 
fought out, and there could be no lasting peace until 
they were. Did men like war so much, she wondered? 

Betty stole around to Uncle Win's side before he went 
away and thanked him again for the interest he had 
taken in Doris' desire. Yes, she was a pretty girl; and 
how much cheer there seemed around the Leverett fire 
side ! Warren was a fine young fellow, too, older by two 
years than his own son. He missed a certain cordial 



ABOUT A GOWN. 103 

living that would have cheered his own life. When his 
boy came home he would have it different. And by that 
time he would have decided about Doris. 

Betty and Jane had plenty of discussions the next 
morning. Waists were short and full, and with a square 
neck and a flat band, over which there was a fall of lace, 
and short, puffed sleeves for evening wear. 

" But she isn't likely to go to another party this winter, 
and she will want it for a best dress all next summer," 
said Mrs. Leverett. 

" Oh, I should have long sleeves, as well, and just 
baste them in. And there's so much silk I should make 
a fichu to tie round in the back with two long ends. 
You can make that any time. And a scant ruffle not 
more than an inch wide when it is finished. A ruffle 
round the skirt about two inches when that is done. 
Letty Rowe has three ruffles around her changeable taf 
feta. 'Twas made for her cousin's wedding, and it is 
just elegant." 

" It is a shame to waste stuff that way," declared Mrs. 
Leverett. 

" But the frills are scant, and skirts are never more 
than two and a half yards round. Why, last summer 
mother said I might have that fine sprigged muslin of 
hers to make over, and I'm sure I have enough for 
another gown. Mrs. Leverett, it doesn't take half as 
much to make a gown for us as it did for our mothers," 
said Jane with arch humor. 

" She had better save the piece for a new waist and 
sleeves," declared the careful mother. 

" Well, maybe fichus and capes will go out before 
another summer. I would save the piece now, at any 
rate," agreed Jane. 

Jane was extremely clever. The girls had many amus 
ing asides, for Mrs. Leverett was ironing in the kitchen. 



104 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

There was nothing harmful about them, but they were 
full of gay promise. Jane cut and basted and fitted. 
There were the bodice and the sleeves. " You can easily 
slip out the long ones," she whispered, " and there was 
the skirt with the lining all basted, and the ruffles cut and 
sewed together." 

" You'll have a nice job hemming them. I should do 
it over a cord. It makes them set out so much better. 
And if you get in the drag I'll come over to-morrow. 
I'm to help mother with the nut cake this afternoon. It 
cuts better to be a day or two old. We made the fruit 
cake a fortnight ago." 

" How good you are! I don't know what I should 
have done without you ! " 

" And I don't know how Betty will ever repay you," 
said Mrs. Leverett. 

"I know," returned Jane laughingly. "I have planned 
to get every stitch out of her. I am going to quilt my 
' Young Man's Ramble ' this winter, and mother's said 
I might ask in two or three of the best quilters I know 
Betty quilts so beautifully ! " 

The " Young Man's Ramble " was patchwork of a 
most intricate design, in which it seemed that one might 
ramble about fruitlessly. 

" I am glad there is some way of your getting even," 
said the mother with a little pride. 

Jane took dinner with them and then ran off home. 
Warren went a short distance with her, as their way lay 
together. 

" I hope you didn't say anything about the dancing," 
he remarked. " Mother is rather set against it. But 
Sister Electa gives dancing parties, and Betty's going to 
Hartford this winter. She ought to know how to dance." 

" Trust me for not letting the cat out of the bag! " 

Betty sewed and sewed. She could hardly attend to 



ABOUT A GOWN. 105 

Doris' lessons and sums. She hemmed the ruffle in the 
evening, and hurried with her work the next morning. 
Everything went smoothly, and Mrs. Leverett was more 
interested than she would have believed. And she was 
quite ready to take up the cudgel for her daughter's 
silken gown when Aunt Priscilla made her appearance. 
Of course she would find fault. 

But it is the unexpected that happens. Aunt Pris 
cilla was in an extraordinary mood. Some money had 
been paid to her that morning that she had considered 
lost beyond a peradventure. And she said, " It was a 
great piece of foolishness, and Winthrop Adams at his 
time of life ought to have had more sense, but what 
could you expect of a man always browsing over 
books! And if she had thought Betty was dying for a 
silk frock, she had two laid away that would come in 
handy some time. She hadn't ever quite decided who 
should fall heir to them, but so many of the girls had 
grown up and had husbands to buy fine things for them, 
she supposed it would be Betty." 

"What is going round the neck and sleeves?" she 
asked presently. 

" Mother has promised to lend me some lace," an 
swered Betty. " The other girls had a borrowed wear 
out of it." 

" I'll look round a bit. I never had much real finery, 
but husband always wanted me to dress well when we 
were first married. We went out a good deal for a while, 
before he was hurt. I'll see what I have." 

And the next morning old Polly brought over a box 
with " Missus' best compliments." There was some 
beautiful English thread lace about four inches wide, just 
as it had lain away for years, wrapped in soft white paper, 
with a cake of white wax to keep it from turning unduly 
yellow. 



106 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

" Betty, you are in wonderful luck," said her mother. 
" Something has stirred up Aunt Priscilla." 

Just at noon that eventful Thursday Mr. Manning 
came in from Salem for his mother-in-law. Mrs. Man 
ning's little daughter had been born at eight that morn 
ing, and Mary wanted her mother at once. She had 
promised to go, but hardly expected the call so soon. 

There were so many charges to give Betty, who was 
to keep house for the next week. Nothing was quite 
ready. Mother fashion, she had counted on doing this 
and that before she went; and if Betty couldn't get along 
she must ask Aunt Priscilla to come, just as if Betty had 
not kept house a whole week last summer. There was 
advice to father and to Warren, and he was to try to 
bring Betty home by nine o'clock that evening. What 
Doris would do in the afternoon, she couldn't see. 

" Go off with an easy heart, mother," said Mr. Lev- 
erett; " I will come home early this afternoon." 



CHAPTER VIII. 

SINFUL OR NOT? 

should have seen me when Jane tied a white sash 
about my waist. Then I was just complete." 

" But you looked beautiful before like a well, a 
queen couldn't have looked prettier. Or the Empress 
Josephine." 

Betty laughed and kissed the little girl whose eyes 
were still full of admiration. She had not come home 
until ten, and found her father waiting at the fireside, but 
Doris was snuggled up in bed and soundly asleep. She 
had risen at her father's call, made the breakfast, and sent 
the men off in time; then heard the lesson Doris wasn't 



SINFUL OR NOT? 107 

quite sure of, and sent her to school ; and now the dinner 
was cleared away and they were sitting by the fire. 

The Empress Josephine was in her glory then, one of 
the notables of Europe. 

" And Mrs. Morse said such lace as that would be ten 
dollars a yard now. Think of that! Thirty dollars! 
But didn't you get lonesome waiting for father? " 

" He came just half an hour afterward. And, oh, we 
had such a grand, funny time getting supper. It was 
as good as a party. I poured the tea. And he called 
me Miss Adams, like a grown lady. And, then, what do 
you think? We played fox and geese! And do you 
know I thought the geese were dumb to let the fox get 
them all. And then he took the geese and soon penned 
my fox in a corner. Then he told me about the fox and 
the goose and the measure of corn and the man crossing 
the stream. It was just delightful. I wanted to stay up 
until you came home, but I did get so sleepy. And was 
the party splendid? I don't think anyone could have 
been prettier than you! " 

" Sally Prentiss had a pink silk frock, and the ruffles 
were fringed out, which made them fluffy. It was beau 
tiful ! Oh, I should have felt just awful in my gray cloth 
or my blue winter frock. And I owe most of the delight 
to you, little Doris. I've been thinking sometime I 
will work you a beautiful white frock, fine India muslin." 

" And what did they do? " 

" We didn't sew much," Betty laughed. " We talked 
and talked. I knew all but one girl, and we were soon 
acquainted. Jane didn't have a thing to do, of course. 
Then the gentlemen came and we went out to supper. 
The table was like a picture. There was cold turkey and 
cold ham and cold baked pork. They were all delicious. 
And bread and biscuits and puffy little cakes quite new. 
Mrs. Morse's cousin brought the recipe, and she has 



io8 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

promised it to mother. And there were jams and jellies 
and ever so many things, and then all the plates and 
meats were sent away, and the birthday cake with seven 
teen tiny candles was lighted up. And cake of every 
kind, and whipped cream and nuts and candies. Then 
we went back to the parlor and played " proverbs " and 
" What is my thought like? " and then black Joe came 
with his fiddle. First they danced the minuet. It was 
beautiful. And then they had what is called cotillions. 
I believe that is the new fashionable dance. It takes 
eight people, but you can have two or three at the same 
time. They dance in figures. And, oh, it is just delight 
ful ! I do wonder if it is wrong? " 

" What would make it wrong? " asked Doris gravely. 

" That's what puzzles me. A great many people think 
it right and send their children to dancing-school. On 
all great occasions there seems to be dancing. It is 
stepping and floating around gracefully. You think of 
swallows flying and flowers swinging and grass waving 
in the summer sun." 

" But if there is so much of it in the world, and if God 
made the world gay and glad and rejoicing and full of 
butterflies and birds and ever so many things that don't 
do any real work but just have a lovely time " 

Doris' wide-open eyes questioned her companion. 

" They haven't any souls. I don't know." Betty shook 
her head. " Let's ask father about it to-night. When 
you are little you play tag and puss-in-the-corner and 
other things, and run about full of fun. Dancing is more 
orderly and refined. And there's the delicious music! 
All the young men were so nice and polite, so kind of 
elegant, and it makes you feel of greater consequence. 
I don't mean vain, only as if it was worth while to be 
have prettily. It's like the parlor and the kitchen. You 
don't take your washing and scrubbing and scouring in 



SINFUL OR NOT? 109 

the parlor, though that work is all necessary. So there 
are two sides to life. And my side just now is getting 
supper, while your side is studying tables. Oh, I do 
wonder if you will ever get to know them ! " 

Doris sighed. She would so much rather talk about 
the party. 

" And your frock was pretty? " she ventured timidly. 

" All the girls thought it lovely. And I told them it 
was a gift from my little cousin, who came from old Bos 
ton and they were so interested in you. They thought 
Doris a beautiful name, but Sally said the family name 
ought to be grander to go with it. But Adams is a fine 
old name, too the first name that was ever given. 
There was only one man then, and when there came to 
be such hosts of them they tacked the ' s ' on to make it 
a noun of multitude." 

" Did they really? Some of the children are learning 
about nouns. Oh, dear, how much there is to learn!" 
said the little girl with a sigh. 

Betty went at her supper. People ate three good 
stout meals in those days. It made a deal of cooking. 
It made a stout race of people as well, and one heard 
very little about nerves and indigestion. Betty was get 
ting to be quite a practiced cook. 

Mr. Leverett took a good deal of interest hearing 
about the party. Warren had enjoyed it mightily. And 
then they besieged him for an opinion on the question 
of dancing. Warren presented his petition that he might 
be allowed to join a class of young men that was being 
formed. There were only a few vacancies. 

" I do not think I have a very decided opinion about 
it," he returned slowly. " Times have changed a good 
deal since I was young, and amusements have changed 
with them. A hundred or so years ago life was very 
strenuous, and prejudices of people very strong. Yet 



no A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

the young people skated and had out-of-door games, 
and indoor plays that we consider very rough now. 
And you remember that our ancestors were opposed to 
nearly everything their oppressors did. Their own lives 
were too serious to indulge in much pleasuring. The 
pioneers of a nation rarely do. But we have come to 
an era of more leisure as to social life. Whether it will 
make us as strong as a nation remains to be seen." 

" That doesn't answer my question," said Warren 
respectfully. 

" I am going to ask you to wait until you are of age, 
mostly for your mother's sake. I think she dreads leav 
ing the old ways. And then Betty will have no excuse," 
with a shrewd little smile. 

Warren looked disappointed. 

" But I danced last night," said Betty. " And we used 
to dance last winter at school. Two or three of the girls 
were good enough to show us the new steps. And one 
of the amusing things was a draw cotillion. The girls 
drew out a slip of paper that had a young man's name 
on it, and then she had to pass it over to him, and he 
danced with her. And who do you think I had?" 
triumphantly. 

" I do not know the young men who were there," 
said her father. 

" I hope it was the very nicest and best," exclaimed 
Doris. 

" It just was ! Jane's cousin, Morris Winslow. And 
he was quite the leader in everything, almost as if it was 
his party. And he is one of the real quality, you know. 
I was almost afraid to dance with him, but he was so 
nice and told me what to do every time, so I did not make 
any serious blunders. But it is a pleasure to feel that 
you know just how." 

" There will be years for you to learn," said her father. 



SINFUL OR NOT? in 

" Meanwhile the ghost of old Miles Standish may come 
back." 

" What would he do? " asked Doris, big-eyed. 

Warren laughed. " What he did in the flesh was this: 
The Royalists you see, they were not all Puritans that 
came over were going to keep an oldtime festival at 
a place called Merry Mount. They erected a May pole 
and were going to dance around it." 

" That is what they do at home. And they have a 
merry time. Miss Arabella took me. And didn't Miles 
Standish like it? " 

" I guess not. He sent a force of men to tear it down, 
and marched Morton and his party into Plymouth, where 
they were severely reprimanded fined as well, some 
people say." 

" We do not rule our neighbors quite as strictly now. 
But one must admire those stanch old fellows, after 
all." 

" I am glad the world has grown wider," said Warren. 
But he wished its wideness had taken in his mother, who 
had a great fear of the evils lying in wait for unwary 
youth. Still he would not go against her wishes while 
he was yet under age. Young people were considered 
children in their subjection to their parents until this 
period. And girls who stayed at home were often in sub 
jection all their lives. There were men who ruled their 
families with a sort of iron sway, but Mr. Leverett had 
always been considered rather easy. 

Doris begged to come out and dry the dishes, but 
they said tables instead of talking of the seductive party. 
Mr. Leverett had to go out for an hour. Betty sat down 
and took up her knitting. She felt rather tired and 
sleepy, for she had gone on with the party the night 
before, after she was in bed. A modern girl would be 
just getting ready to go to her party at ten. But then 



fi2 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

she would not have to get up at half-past five the next 
morning, make a fire, and cook breakfast. Suddenly 
Betty found herself nodding. 

" Put up your book, Doris. I'll mix the cakes and 
we will go to bed. You can dream on the lessons." 

The party had demoralized Doris as well. 

Among the real quality young men came to inquire 
after the welfare of the ladies the next morning, or even 
ing at the latest. But people in the middle classes were 
occupied with their employments, which were the main 
things of their lives. 

And though the lines were strongly drawn and the 
" quality " were aristocratic, there were pleasant grada 
tions, marked by a fine breeding on the one side and 
a sense of fitness on the other, that met when there was 
occasion, and mingled and fused agreeably, then returned 
each to his proper sphere. The Morses were well con 
nected and had some quite high-up relatives. For that 
matter, so were the Leveretts, but Foster Leverett 
was not ambitions for wealth or social distinction, 
and Mrs. Leverett clung to the safety of the good old 
ways. 

Jane ran over in the morning with a basket of some 
of the choicer kinds of cake, and some nuts, raisins, and 
mottoes for the little girl. There were so many nice 
things she was dying to tell Betty, compliments, and 
some from Cousin Morris. And didn't she think every 
thing went off nicely? 

" It was splendid, all through," cried Betty enthusi 
astically. " I would like to go to a party well, I sup 
pose every week would be too often, but at least twice 
a month." 

" The Chauncey Winslows are going to have a party 
Thanksgiving night. They are Morris' cousins and not 
mine, but I've been there; and Morris said last night 



SINFUL OR NOT? 113 

I should have an invitation. It will be just splendid, I 
know." 

" But you are seventeen. And mother thinks I am 
only a little girl," returned Betty. 

" Oh, yes ; I didn't go scarcely anywhere last winter. 
Being grown up is ever so much nicer. But it will come 
for you." 

" Electa wants me to visit her this winter. The as 
sembly is to meet, you know, and she has plenty of good 
times, although she has three children. I do hope I can 
go! And I have that lovely frock." 

" That would be delightful. I wish I had a sister mar 
ried and living away somewhere New York, for in 
stance. They have such fine times. Oh, dear! how do 
you get along alone? " 

" It keeps me pretty busy." 

Jane had come out in the kitchen, so Betty could go 
on with her dinner preparations. 

" Mother thinks of keeping Cousin Nabby all winter. 
She likes Boston so, and it's lonely up in New Hampshire 
on the farm. That will ease me up wonderfully." 

" If I go away mother will have to get someone." 

" Although they do not think we young people are of 
much account," laughed Jane. " Give your little girl 
a good big chunk of party cake and run over when you 
can." 

" But I can't now." 

" Then I will have to do the visiting." 

Dinner was ready on the mark, and Mr. Leverett 
praised it. Doris came home in high feather. She had 
not missed a word, and she had done all her sums. 

" I think I am growing smarter," she announced with 
a kind of grave exultation. " Don't you think Aunt 
Elizabeth will teach me how to knit when she comes 
back? " 



u 4 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

Not to have knit a pair of stockings was considered 
rather disgraceful for a little girl. 

Aunt Priscilla came over early Saturday afternoon. 
She found the house in very good order, and she glanced 
sharply about, too. They had not heard from Mary yet, 
but the elder lady said no news was good news. Then 
she insisted on looking over the clothes for the Monday's 
wash and mending up the rents. Tuesday she would 
come in and darn the stockings. When she was nine 
years old it was her business to do all the family darn 
ing, looking askance at Doris. 

" Now, if you had been an only child, Aunt Priscilla, 
and had no parents, what a small amount of darning 
would have fallen to your share! " said Betty. 

" Well, I suppose I would have been put out some 
where and trained to make myself useful. And if I'd 
had any money that would have been on interest, so that 
I could have some security against want in my old age. 
Anyway, it isn't likely I should have been allowed to 
fritter away my time." 

Betty wondered how Aunt Priscilla could content her 
self with doing such a very little now! Not but what 
she had earned a rest. And Foster Leverett, who man 
aged some of her business, said sub rosa that she was 
not spending all her income. 

" You can't come up to your mother making tea," she 
said at the supper table. " Your mother makes the best 
cup of tea I ever tasted." 

Taking it altogether they did get on passably well 
without Mrs. Leverett during the ten days. She brought 
little James, six years of age, who couldn't go the long 
distance to school in cold weather with the two older 
children, and so was treated to a visit at grandmother's. 

Mary was doing well and had a sweet little girl, as 
good as a kitten. Mr. Manning's Aunt Comfort had 



SINFUL OR NOT? 115 

come to stay a spell through the winter. And now there 
was getting ready for Thanksgiving. There was no 
time to make mince pies, but then Mrs. Leverett didn't 
care so much for them early in the season. Hollis' 
family would come up, they would ask Aunt Priscilla, 
and maybe Cousin Winthrop would join them. So they 
were busy as possible. 

Little James took a great liking to his shy cousin 
Doris, and helped her say tables and spell. He had been 
at school all summer and was very bright and quick. 

" But, Uncle Foster," she declared, " the children in 
America are much smarter than English children. They 
understand everything so easily." 

Then came the first big snowstorm of the season. 
There had been two or three little dashes and squalls. 
It began at noon and snowed all night. The sky was 
so white in the early morning you could hardly tell where 
the snow line ended and where it began; but by and by 
there came a bluish, silvery streak that parted it like a 
band, and presently a pale sun ventured forth, hanging on 
the edge of yellowish clouds and growing stronger, until 
about noon it flooded everything with gold, and the 
heavens were one broad sheet of blue magnificence. 

Doris did not go to school in the morning. There 
were no broken paths, and boys and men were busy 
shoveling out or tracking down. 

" It is a heavy snow for so early in the season," de 
clared Uncle Leverett. " We are not likely to see bare 
ground in a long while." 

Doris thought it wonderful. And when Uncle Win 
throp came the next day and took them out in a big 
sleigh with a span of horses, her heart beat with un 
wonted enjoyment. But the familiarity little James 
evinced with it quite startled her. 

Thanksgiving Day was a great festival even then, and 



n6 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

had been for a long while. Christmas was held of little 
account. New Year's Day had a greater social aspect. 
Commencement, election, and training days were in high 
favor, and every good housewife baked election cake, 
and every voter felt entitled to a half-holiday at least. 
Then there was an annual fast day, with churchgoing 
and solemnity quite different from its modern suc 
cessor. 

The Hollis Leveretts, two grown people and four chil 
dren, came up early. Sam, or little Sam as he was often 
called to distinguish him from his two uncles, was a nice 
well-grown and well-looking boy of about ten. Mrs. 
Hollis had lost her next child, a boy also, and Bessy was 
just beyond six. Charles and the baby completed the 
group. 

Uncle Leverett made a fire in the best room early in 
the morning. Doris was a little curious to see it 
with the shutters open. It was a large room, with a 
" boughten " ingrain carpet, stiff chairs, two great square 
ottomans, a big sofa, and some curious old paintings, 
besides a number of framed silhouettes of different mem 
bers of the family. 

The most splendid thing of all was the great roaring 
fire in the wide chimney. The high shelf was adorned 
with two pitchers in curious glittering bronze, with odd 
designs in blue and white raised from the surface. The 
children brought their stools and sat around the fire. 

Adjoining this was the spare room, the guest chamber 
par excellence. Sometimes the old house had been full, 
when there were young people coming and going, and 
relatives from distant places visiting. Electa and Mary 
had both married young, though in the early years of 
her married life Electa had made long visits home. But 
her husband had prospered in business and gone into 
public life, and she entertained a good deal, and the jour- 



SINFUL OR NOT? 117 

ney home was long and tedious. Mary was much nearer, 
but she had a little family and many cares. 

Sam took the leadership of the children. He had seen 
Doris for a few minutes on several occasions and had not 
a very exalted opinion of a girl who could only cipher 
in addition, while he was over in interest and tare and 
tret. To be sure he could neither read nor talk French. 
This year he had gone to the Latin school. He hadn't 
a very high opinion of Latin, and he did not want to go 
to college. He was going to be a shipping merchant, 
and own vessels to go all over the world and bring car 
goes back to Boston. 'He meant to be a rich man and 
own a fine big house like the Hancock House. 

Doris thought it would be very wonderful for a little 
boy to get rich. 

" And you might be lord mayor of Boston," she said, 
thinking of the renowned Whittington. 

" We don't have lord mayors nor lord anything now, 
except occasionally a French or English nobleman. 
And we don't care much for them," said the uncompro 
mising young republican. " I should like to be Gov 
ernor or perhaps President, but I shouldn't want to waste 
my time on anything else." 

Grandfather Leverett smiled over these boyish am 
bitions, but he wished Sam's heart was not quite so set 
on making money. 

There were so few grown people that by bringing in 
one of the kitchen tables and placing it alongside they 
could make room for all. Betty was to be at the end, 
flanked on both sides by the children ; Mrs. Hollis at the 
other end. There was a savory fragrance of turkey, 
sauces, and vegetables, and the table seemed literally 
piled up with good things. 

Just as they were about to sit down Uncle Winthrop 
came in for a moment to express his regrets again at 



n8 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

not being able to make one of the family circle. Doris 
thought he looked very handsome in his best clothes, his 
elegant brocaded waistcoat, and fine double-ruffled shirt- 
front. He wore his hair brushed back and tied in a 
queue and slightly powdered. 

He was to go to a grand dinner with some of the city 
officials, a gathering that was not exactly to his taste, 
but one he could not well decline. And when Doris 
glanced up with such eager admiration and approval, his 
heart warmed tenderly toward her, as it recalled other 
appreciative eyes that had long ago closed for the last 
time. 

What a dinner it was! Sam studied hard and played 
hard in the brief while he could devote to play, and he 
ate accordingly. Doris was filled with amazement. No 
wonder he was round and rosy. 

" Doesn't that child ever eat any more? " asked Mrs. 
Hollis. " No wonder she is so slim and peaked. I'd 
give her some gentian, mother, or anything that would 
start her up a little." 

Doris turned scarlet. 

" She's always well," answered Mrs. Leverett. " She 
hasn't had a sick day since she came here. I think 
she hasn't much color naturally, and her skin is very 
fair." 

" I do hope she will stay well. I've had such excellent 
luck with my children, who certainly do give their keep 
ing credit. I think she's been housed too much. I'm 
afraid she won't stand the cold winter very well." 

" You can't always go by looks," commented Aunt 
Priscilla. 

After the dinner was cleared away and the dishes 
washed (all the grown people helped and made short 
work of it), the kitchen was straightened, the chairs being 
put over in the corner, and the children who were large 



SINFUL OR NOT? 119 

enough allowed a game of blindman's buff, Uncle Lev- 
erett watching to see that no untoward accidents hap 
pened, and presently allowing himself to be caught. And, 
oh, what a scattering and laughing there was then! His 
arms were so large that it seemed as if he must sweep 
everybody into them, but, strange to relate, no one was 
caught so easily. They dodged and tiptoed about and 
gave little half-giggles and thrilled with success. He 
did catch Sam presently, and the boy did not enjoy it a 
bit. Not that he minded being blindfolded, but he 
should have liked to boast that grandfather could not 
catch him. 

Sam could see under the blinder just the least bit. 
Doris had on red morocco boots, and they were barely 
up to her slim ankles. They were getting small, so 
Aunt Elizabeth thought she might take a little good out 
of them, as they were by far too light for school wear. 
Sam was sure he could tell by them, and he resolved to 
capture her. But every time he came near grandfather 
rushed before her, and he didn't want to catch back right 
away, neither did he want Bessy, whose half-shriek be 
trayed her whereabouts. 

Mrs. Leverett opened the door. 

" I think you have made noise enough," she said. 
People believed in the old adage then that children 
should " be seen and not heard," and that indoors was 
no place for a racket. " Aunt Priscilla thinks she must 
go, but she wants you to sing a little." 

This was for Mr. Leverett, but Sam had a very nice 
boy's voice and felt proud enough when he lifted it up in 
church. 

" I'll come, grandmother," he said with some elation, 
as if he alone had been asked. And as he tore off the 
blinder he put his head down close to Doris, and whis 
pered: 



izo A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

" It was mean of you to hide behind grandfather every 
time, and he didn't play fair a bit." 

Bat having a peep at the red shoes as they went danc 
ing round was fair enough! 

Hollis Leverett sang in the choir. They had come to 
this innovation, though they drew the line at instru 
mental music. He had a really fine tenor voice, Mr. 
Leverett sang in a sort of natural, untrained tone, very 
sweet. Mrs. Hollis couldn't sing at all, but she was very 
proud to have the children take after their father. There 
were times when Aunt Priscilla sang for herself, but her 
voice had grown rather quivering and uncertain. So 
Betty and her mother had to do their best to keep from 
being drowned out. But the old hymns were touching, 
with here and there a line of rare sweetness. 

Hollis Leverett was going to take Aunt Priscilla home 
and then return for the others. Sam insisted upon going 
with them, so grandfather roasted some corn for Bessy 
and Doris. They had not the high art of popping it 
then and turning it inside out, although now and then a 
grain achieved such a success all by itself. Bessy 
thought Doris rather queer and not very smart. 

The two little ones were bundled up and made ready, 
and the sleigh came back with a jingle for warning. 
Mrs. Hollis took her baby in her arms, grandfather car 
ried out little Foster, and they were all packed in snugly 
and covered up almost head and ears with the great fur 
robes, while little Sam shouted out the last good-night. 

Mrs. Leverett straightened things in the best room, 
until all the company air had gone out of it. Doris felt 
the difference and was glad to come out to her own chim 
ney corner. Then Betty spread the table and they had 
a light supper, for, what with dinner being a little late 
and very hearty, no one was hungry. But they sipped 
their tea and talked over the children and how finely 



WHAT WINTER BROUGHT. 121 

Sam was getting along in his studies, and Mrs. Leverett 
brought up the Manning children, for much as she loved 
Hollis, her daughter Mary's children came in for a share 
of grandmotherly affection. And in her heart she felt 
that little James was quite as good as anybody. 

Warren had promised to spend the evening with some 
young friends. Betty wished she were a year older and 
could have the privilege of inviting in schoolmates and 
their brothers, and that she might have fire in the parlor 
on special occasions. But, to compensate, some of the 
neighbors dropped in. Doris and James played fox 
and geese until they were sleepy. James had a little 
cot in the corner of grandmother's room. 

CHAPTER IX. 

WHAT WINTER BROUGHT. 

, what a lovely white world it was! The low, sedgy 
places were frozen over and covered with snow; the 
edges of the bay, Charles River, and Mystic River were 
assuming their winter garments as well. And when, just 
a week after, another snowstorm came, there seemed a 
multitude of white peaks out in the harbor, and the hills 
were transformed into veritable snow-capped mountains. 
Winter had set in with a rigor unknown to-day. But 
people did not seem to mind it. Even the children had 
a good time sledding and snowballing and building 
snow forts and fighting battles. There were mighty 
struggles between the North Enders and the South 
Enders. Louisburg was retaken, 1775 was re-enacted, 
and Paul Revere again swung his lantern and roused his 
party to arms, and snowballs whitened instead of darken 
ing the air with the smoke of firearms. Deeds of mighty 
prowess were done on both sides. 






122 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

But the boys had the best of it surely. The girls had 
too much to do. They were soon too large for romping 
and playing. There were stockings to knit and to 
darn. There were long overseams in sheets; there was 
no end of shirt-making for the men. They put the 
hems in their own frocks and aprons, they stitched gus 
sets and bands and seams. People were still spinning 
and weaving, though the mills that were to lead the revo 
lution in industries had come in. The Embargo was 
taxing the ingenuity of brains as well as hands, and as 
more of everything was needed for the increase of popu 
lation, new methods were invented to shorten processes 
that were to make New England the manufacturing 
center of the new world. 

When the children had nothing else to do there was 
always a bag of carpet rags handy. There were braided 
rugs that were quite marvels of taste, and even the hit-or- 
miss ones were not bad. 

Still they were allowed out after supper on moonlight 
nights for an hour or so, and then they had grand good 
times. The father or elder brothers went along to see 
that no harm happened. Fort Hill was one of the 
favorite coasting places, and parties of a larger growth 
thronged here. But Beacon Hill had not been shorn of 
all its glory. 

Uncle Winthrop came over one day and took the chil 
dren and Betty to see the battle at Fort Hill. The Brit 
ish had intrenched themselves with forts and breastworks 
and had their colors flying. It really had been hard 
work to enlist men or boys in this army. No one likes 
to go into a fight with the foregone conclusion that he is 
to be beaten. But they were to do their best, and 
they did it. The elders went out to see the fun. The 
rebels directed all their energies to the capture of one 
fort instead of opening fire all along the line, and by 



WHAT WINTER BROUGHT. 123 

dusk they had succeeded in demolishing that, when the 
troops on both sides were summoned home to supper 
and to comfortable beds, an innovation not laid down 
in the rules of warfare. 

Little James had been fired with military ardor. 
Cousin Sam was the leader of one detachment of the 
rebel forces. Catch him anywhere but on the winning 
side! 

Doris had been much interested as well, and that even 
ing Uncle Leverett tolcl them stories about Boston thirty 
years before. He was a young man of three-and-twenty 
when Paul Revere swung his lantern to give the alarm. 
He could only touch lightly upon what had been such 
solemn earnest to the men of that time, the women as 
well. 

" I'm going to be a soldier," declared James, with all 
the fervor of his youthful years. " But you can't ever 
be, Doris." 

" No," answered Doris softly, squeezing Uncle Lev- 
erett's hand in both of hers. " But there isn't any war." 

" Yes there is over in France and England, and ever 
so many places. My father was reading about it. And 
if there wasn't any war here, couldn't we go and fight 
for some other country? " 

" I hope there will never be war in your time, Jimmie, 
boy," said his grandmother. " And it is bedtime for 
little people." 

"Why does it come bedtime so soon?" in a deeply 
aggrieved tone. " When I am a big man I am going to 
sit up clear till morning. And I'll tell my grandchildren 
all night long how I fought in the wars." 

" That is looking a long way ahead," returned grand 
father. 

Besides the lessons, Doris was writing a letter to Miss 
Arabella. That lady would have warmly welcomed any 



i2 4 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

little scrawl in Doris' own hand. Uncle Winthrop had 
acknowledged her safe arrival in good health, and en 
larged somewhat on the pleasant home she had found 
with her relatives. Betty had overlooked the little girl's 
letter and made numerous corrections, and she had 
copied and thought of some new things and copied it 
over again. She had added a little French verse also. 

"Dear me!" exclaimed Aunt Elizabeth, ''when will 
the child ever learn anything useful! There doesn't 
seem any time. The idea of a girl of ten years old never 
having knit a stocking! And she will be full that and 
more! " 

" But everybody doesn't knit," said Betty. 

" Oh, yes, you can buy those flimsy French things 
that do not give you any wear. And presently we may 
not be able to buy either French or English. She is not 
going to be so rich either. It's nonsense to think of that 
marshy land ever being valuable. Whatever possessed 
anyone to buy it, I can't see! And if Doris was to be 
a queen I think she ought to know something useful." 

" I do not suppose I shall ever need to spin," Betty said 
rather archly. 

Mrs. Leverett had insisted that all her girls should 
learn to spin both wool and flax. Betty had rebelled a 
little two years ago, but she had learned nevertheless. 

" And there was a time when a premium was paid to 
the most skillful spinner. Your grandmother, Betty, 
was among those who spun on the Common. The 
women used to go out there with their wheels. And 
there were spinning schools. The better class had to 
pay, but a certain number of poor women were taught on 
condition that they would teach their children at home. 
And it is not a hundred years ago either. There was 
no cloth to be had, and Manufactory House was. 
established." 



WHAT WINTER BROUGHT. 125 

Betty had heard the story of spinning on the Com 
mons, for her own grandmother had told it. But she 
had an idea that the world would go on rather than retro 
grade. For now they were turning out cotton cloth and 
printing calico and making canvas and duck, and it was 
the boast of the famous Constitution that everything be 
sides her armament was made in Massachusetts. 

Uncle Winthrop thought Doris' letter was quite a 
masterpiece for a little girl. At least, that was what he 
said. I think he was a good deal more interested in that 
than in the sampler she had begun. And he agreed 
privately with Betty that " useless " sometimes was mis 
spelled into " useful." 

Another letter created quite a consternation. This 
was from Hartford. Mrs. King wrote that a friend, a 
Mr. Eastman, was going from Springfield to Boston on 
some business, and on his return he would bring Betty 
home with him. His wife was going on to Hartford a 
few days later and would be very pleased to have Betty's 
company. She did not know when another chance 
would offer, for not many people were journeying about 
in the winter. 

Betty was to bring her nicest gowns, and she needed a 
good thick pelisse and heavy woolen frock for outside 
wear. The new hats were very large, and young girls 
were wearing white or cream beaver. Some very hand 
some ones had come from New York recently. There 
was a big bow on the top, and two feathers if you could 
afford it, and ribbon of the same width tied under the 
chin. She was to bring her slippers and clocked stock 
ings, her newest white frock, and if she had to buy a new 
one of any kind it need not be made until she came to 
Hartford. 

" I never heard of such a thing! " declared Mrs. Lev- 
erett, aghast. " She must think your father is made of 



iz6 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

money. And when 'Lecty and Matthias were married 
they went to housekeeping in three rooms in old Mrs. 
Morton's house, and 'Lecty was happy as a queen, and 
had to save at every turn. She wasn't talking then about 
white hats and wide ribbons and feathers and gewgaws. 
The idea!" 

" Of course I can't have the hat," returned Betty re 
signedly. " But my brown one will do. And, oh, isn't 
it lucky my silk is made and trimmed with that beautiful 
lace! If I only had my white skirt worked! And that 
India muslin might do with a little fixing up. If I had 
a lace ruffle to put around the bottom ! " 

" I don't know how I can spare you, Betty. I can't 
put Doris to doing anything. When any of my girls 
were ten years old they could do quite a bit of 
housekeeping. If she wasn't so behind in her 
studies! " 

Betty had twenty plans in a moment, but she knew her 
mother would object to every one. She would be very 
discreet until she could talk the matter over with her 
father. 

" Everything about the journey is so nicely arranged," 
she began; "and, you see, Electa says it will not cost 
anything to Springfield. There may not be a chance 
again this whole winter." 

" The summer will be a good deal pleasanter." 

" But the Capital won't be nearly so" "gay," she was 
about to say, but changed it to " interesting." 

" Betty, I do wish you were more serious-minded. To 
think you're sixteen, almost a woman, and in some things 
you're just a companion for Doris! " 

Betty thought it was rather hard to be between every 
thing. She was not old enough for society, she was not 
a young lady, but she was too old to indulge in the frolics 
of girlhood. She couldn't be wise and sedate at least, 



WHAT WINTER BROUGHT. 127 

she did not want to be. And were the fun and the good 
times really wicked? 

She was on the lookout for her father that evening. 
Warren was going to the house of a friend to supper, as 
the debating society met there, and it saved him a long 
walk. 

" Father, Electa's letter has come," in a hurried whis 
per. " She's planned out my visit, but mother thinks 
oh, do try and persuade her, and make it possible! I 
want to go so much." 

But Betty began to think the subject never would be 
mentioned. Supper was cleared away, Doris and James 
studied, and she sat and worked diligently on her white 
gown. Then she knew her mother did not mean to say 
a word before her and presently she went to bed. 

Mrs. Leverett handed the letter over to her husband. 
" From 'Lecty," she said briefly. 

He read it and re-read it, while she knit on her stocking. 

" Yes " slowly. " Well Betty might as well go. 
She has been promised the visit so long." 

" I can't spare her. Even if I sent James home, there's 
Doris. And I am not as spry as I was ten years ago. 
The work is heavy." 

" Oh, you must have someone. John Grant was in 
from Roxbury to-day. He has two girls quite anxious 
to go out this winter. I think the oldest means to marry 
next spring or summer, and wants to earn a little 
money." 

" We can't take in everyone who wants to earn a little 
money." 

" No," humorously. " It would bankrupt us these 
hard times. The keep would be the same as for Betty, 
and a few dollars wages wouldn't signify." 

" But Betty '11 want no end of things. It does seem as 
if 'Lecty had turned into a fine lady. Whether it would 



128 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

be a good influence on Betty! She's never been serious 
yet." 

" And Electa joined the church at fourteen. I think 
you can trust Betty with her. To be sure, Mat's pros 
pered beyond everything." 

Prosperity and every good gift came from the Lord, 
Mrs. Leverett fully believed. And yet David had seen 
the " ungodly in great prosperity." She had a mother's 
pride in Mr. and Mrs. King, but they were rather gay 
with dinner parties and everything. 

" She will have to take Betty just as she is. Her 
clothes are good enough." 

Mr. Leverett re-read the letter. He wasn't much 
judge of white hats and wide ribbons, and, since the time 
was short, perhaps Electa could help her to spend the 
money to better advantage, and there would be no worry. 
He would just slip a bill or two in Betty's hand toward 
the last. 

" Betty's a nice-looking girl," said her father. 

" I should be sorry to have her niceness all come out 
in looks," said Betty's mother. 

There was no reply to this. 

" I really do not think she ought to go. There will 
be other winters." 

" Well we will sleep on the matter. We can't tell 
about next winter." 

Warren thought she ought to go. Aunt Priscilla 
came over a day or two after in Jonas Field's sleigh. He 
was out collecting, and would call for her at half-past 
five, though she still insisted she was pretty sure-footed 
in walking. 

Mr. Perkins in a moment of annoyance had once said 
to his wife : " Priscilla, you have one virtue, at least. 
One can always tell just where to find you. You are 
sure to be on the opposition side." 



WHAT WINTER BROUGHT. 129 

She had a faculty of always seeing how the other side 
looked. She had a curious sympathy with it as well. 
And though she was not an irresolute woman, she did 
sometimes have a longing to go over to the enemy 
when it was very attractive. 

She listened now and nodded at Mrs. Leverett's rea 
soning, adding the pungency of her sniff. Betty's heart 
dropped like lead. True, she had not really counted on 
Aunt Priscilla's influence. 

" I just do suppose if 'Lecty was ill and alone, and 
wanted Betty, there'd be no difficulty. It's the question 
between work and play. There wan't much time to play 
when I was young, and now I wish I had some of the 
work, since I'm too old to play. I do believe the thing 
ought to be evened up." 

This was rather non-committal, but the girl's heart 
rose a little. 

" Oh, if 'Lecty was ill but you know, Aunt Priscilla, 
they keep a man beside the girl, and it seems to me she 
is always having a nurse when the children are ailing, or 
a woman in to sew, or some extra help. She doesn't 
need Betty, and it seems as if I did." 

" Now, if that little young one was good for any 
thing! " 

" She's at her lessons all the time, and she must learn 
to sew. I should have been ashamed of my girls if they 
had not known how to make one single garment by the 
time they were ten year old." 

" But Doris isn't ten," interposed Betty. " And here 
is Electa's letter, Aunt Priscilla." 

" No, I don't see how I can spare Betty," said Mrs. 
Leverett decisively. 

Aunt Priscilla took out her glasses and polished them 
and then adjusted them to her rather high nose. 

" Well, 'Lecty's got to be quite quality, hasn't she? 



130 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

And Matthias, too. I suppose it's proper to give folks 
their whole name when they're getting up in the world 
and going to legislatures. But land! I remember Mat 
King when he was a patched-up, barefooted little boy. 
He was always hanging after 'Lecty, and your uncle 
thought she might have done better. 'Lecty was real 
good-looking. And now they're top of the heap with 
menservants and maidservants, and goodness knows 
what all." 

" Yes, they have prospered remarkably." 

" The Kings were a nice family. My, how Mis' King 
did keep them children, five of them, when their father 
died, and not a black sheep among them! Theron's a 
big sea captain, and Zenas in Washington building up the 
Capitol, and I dare say Mat is thinking of being sent to 
Congress. Joe is in the Army, and the young one keeps 
his mother a lady in New York, I've heard say. Mis' 
King deserves some reward." 

Betty glanced up in surprise. It was seldom Aunt 
Priscilla praised in this wholesale fashion. 

" And this about the hat is just queer, Betty. You 
should have seen old Madam Clarissa Bowdoin, who 
came to call yesterday, with a fine sleigh and driver and 
footman. She just holds on to this world's good things, 
I tell you, and she's past seventy. My, how she was 
trigged out in a black satin pelisse lined with fur ! And 
she had a black beaver bonnet or hat, whatever you call 
it, with a big bow on top, and two black feathers flying. 
I should hate to have my feathers whip all out in such a 
windy day." 

" Oh, yes, that is the first style," said Betty. " Hart 
ford can't keep it all." 

" Hartford can't hold a candle to Boston, even if Mat 
King is there. Stands to reason we can get fashions just 
as soon here, if theirs do come from New York. Madam 



WHAT WINTER BROUGHT. 131 

was mighty fine. You see, I do have some grand friends, 
Betty. Your uncle was a man well thought of." 

" Madam Bowdoin holds her age wonderfully," said 
Mrs. Leverett. 

" Yes. But she's never done a day's work in her life, 
and I don't remember when I didn't work. Let me see 
I've most forgot the thread of my discourse. Oh, you 
never would believe, Betty, that twenty year ago there 
was just such a fashion. I had a white beaver what 
possessed me to get it I don't know. Everything was 
awful high. I had an idea that white would be rather 
plain, but when it had that great bow on top, and strings 
a full finger wide well, I didn't even dare show it to 
your uncle ! So I packed it away with white wax and in 
a linen towel, and when she'd gone yesterday I went and 
looked at it. 'Taint white now, but it's just the color of 
rich cream when it's stood twenty-four hours or so. 
Fursisee, they were just as much alike as two peas except 
as to color and the feathers. I declare I was beat ! Now, 
if you were going to be married, Betty, it might do for a 
wedding hat." 

" But I'm not going to be married," with a sigh. 

" I should hope not," said her mother " at sixteen." 

" My sister Patty was married when she was sixteen, 
and Submit when she was seventeen. The oldest girls 
went off in a hurry, so the others had to fill their places. 
Well it just amazes me reading about this bonnet. And 
whatever I'll do with mine except to give it away, I don't 
know. I did think once of having it dyed. But the bow 
on top was so handsome, and I've kept paper wadded up 
inside, and it hasn't flatted down a mite. Now, Eliza 
beth, she has that silk we all thought so foolish, and her 
brown frock and pelisse will be just the thing to travel 
in. And maybe I could find something else. The 
things will be scattered when I am dead and gone, and 



132 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

I might as well have the good of giving them away. 
Most of the girls are married off and have husbands to 
provide for them. I used to think I'd take some orphan 
body to train and sort of fill Polly's place, for she 
grows more unreliable every day. Yet I do suppose it's 
Christian charity to keep her. And young folks are so 
trifling." 

" Go make a cup of tea, Betty," said Mrs. Leverett. 

" Now, Elizabeth," when Betty had shut the door, 
" I don't see why you mightn't as well let Betty go as 
not. 'Tisn't as if it was among strangers. And there's 
really no telling what may happen next year. We 
haven't any promise of that." 

Mrs. Leverett looked up in surprise. 

" Tisn't every day such a chance comes to hand. She 
couldn't go alone on a journey like that. And 'Lecty 
seems quite lotting on it." 

" But Betty's just started in at housekeeping, and she 
would forget so much." 

" Betty started in full six months ago. And the world 
swings round so fast I dare say what she learns will be 
as old-fashioned as the hills in a few years. I didn't do 
the way my mother taught me husband used to laugh 
me out of it. She'll have time enough to learn." 

The tea, a biscuit, and a piece of pie came in in tempt 
ing array. Aunt Priscilla was at her second cup 
when Jonas Field arrived, good ten minutes before the 
time. 

" You come over to-morrow, Betty," said Aunt Pris 
cilla. " You and Dorothy just take a run ; it'll do you 
good. That child will turn into a book next. She's got 
some of the Adams streaks in her. And girls don't need 
so much book learning. Solomon's wise, and he don't 
even know his letters." 

That made Doris laugh. She was getting quite used 



WHAT WINTER BROUGHT. 133 

to Aunt Priscilla. She rose and made a pretty courtesy, 
and said she would like to come. 

Polly had forgotten to light the lamp. She had been 
nursing Solomon, and the fire had burned low. Aunt 
Priscilla scolded, to be sure. Polly was getting rather 
deaf as well. 

" It's warm out in the kitchen," said Polly. 

" I want it warm here. I aint going to begin to 
save on firing at my time of life ! I have enough to last 
me out, and I don't suppose anybody will thank me for 
the rest. Bring in some logs." 

Aunt Priscilla sat with a shawl around her until the 
cheerful warmth began to diffuse itself and the blaze 
lightened up the room. Polly out in the kitchen was re 
hearsing her woes to Solomon. 

" It's my 'pinion if missus lives much longer she'll be 
queerer'n Dick's hatband. That just wouldn't lay any 
how, I've heerd tell, though I don't know who Dick was 
and what he'd been doing, but he was mighty queer. 
'Pears to me he must a-lived before the war when Gen 
eral Washington licked the English. And there's no 
suitin' missus. First it's too hot and you're 'stravagant, 
then it's too cold and she wants to burn up all the wood 
in creation ! " 

Aunt Priscilla watched the flame of the dancing scar 
let, blue, and leaping white-capped arrows that shot up, 
and out of the side of one eye she saw a picture on the 
end of the braided rug a little girl with a cloud of light 
curls sitting there with a great gray cat in her lap. The 
room was so much less lonely then. Perhaps she was 
getting old, real old, with a weakness for human kind. 
Was that a sign? She did enjoy the runs over to the 
Leveretts'. What would happen if she should not be 
able to go out! 

She gave a little shudder over that. Of all the large 



134 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

family of sisters and brothers there was no one living 
very near or dear to her. She was next to the youngest. 
They had all married, some had died, one brother had 
gone to the Carolinas and found the climate so agreeable 
he had settled there. One sister had gone back to Eng 
land. There were some nieces and nephews, but in the 
early part of her married life Mr. Perkins had objected 
to any of them making a home at his house. " We have 
no children of our own," he said, " and I take it as a sign 
that if the Lord had meant us to care for any, he would 
have sent them direct to us, and not had us taking them 
in at second-hand." 

They had both grown selfish and only considered their 
own wants and comforts. But the years of solitude 
looked less and less inviting to the woman, who had 
been born with a large social side that had met with a 
pinch here, been lopped off there, and crowded in an 
other person's measure. If the person had not been up 
right, scrupulously just in his dealings, and a good pro 
vider, that would have altered her respect for him. And 
wives were to obey their husbands, just as children were 
trained to obey their parents. 

But children were having ideas of their own now. 
Well, when she was sixteen she went to Marblehead and 
spent a summer with her sister Esther, who was having 
hard times then with her flock of little children, and who 
a few years after had given up the struggle. Mr. Green 
had married again and gone out to the lake countries and 
started a sawmill, where there were forests to his hand. 

But this long-ago summer had been an epoch in her 
life. She had baked and brewed, swept and scrubbed, 
cooked and put in her spare time spinning, while poor 
Esther sewed and took care of a very cross pair of twins 
and crawled about a little. There had been some merry 
making that would hardly have been allowed at home, 



WHAT WINTER BROUGHT. 135 

and a young man who had sat on the doorstep and talked, 
who had taken her driving, and with whom she had 
wickedly and frivolously danced one afternoon when a 
party of young people had a merrymaking after the hay 
was in. It was the only time in her life she had ever 
danced, and it was a glimpse of fairy delight to her. But 
she was frightened half to death when she came home, 
and began to have two sides to her life, and she had never 
gotten rid of the other side. 

She had a vague idea that next summer she would go 
again. Meanwhile Mr. Perkins began to come. There 
was an older sister, and no one surmised it was Priscilla, 
until in March, when he spoke to Priscilla's father. 

" I declare I was clear beat," said the worthy parent. 
" Seems to me Martha would be more suitable, but his 
heart's set on Priscilla. He's a good, steady man, fore 
handed and all that, and will make her a good husband, 
and she'll keep growing older. There is nothing to say 
against it." 

The idea that Priscilla would say anything was not 
entertained for a moment. Mr. Perkins began to walk 
home from church with her and come to tea on Sunday 
evening, and it was soon noised about that they were 
keeping steady company. Martha went to Marblehead 
that summer and one of the twins died. In the fall Pris 
cilla was married and went to housekeeping in King 
Street, over her husband's place of business. She was 
engrossed with her life, but she dreamed sometimes of 
the other side and the young man who had remarked 
upon the gowns she wore and put roses in her hair, and 
she had ideas of lace and ribbons and the vanities of the 
world in that early married period. Her attire was rich 
but severely plain; she was not stinted in anything. She 
was even allowed to " lay by " on her own account, which 
meant saving up a little money. She made a good, care- 



T 3 6 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

ful wife. And some months before he died, touched by 
her attentive care, her husband said : 

" Silla, I don't see but you might as well have all I'm 
worth, as to divide it round in the family. They will be 
disappointed, I suppose, but they haven't earned nor 
saved. You have been a good wife, and you just take 
your comfort on it when I'm gone. Then if you should 
feel minded to give back some of it why, that's your 
affair." 

The Perkins family had not liked it very well. They 
knew Aunt Priscilla would marry again, and all that 
money go to a second husband. But she had not 
married, though there had been opportunities. Later on 
she almost wished she had. She had entertained plans 
of taking a girl to bring up, and had considered this little 
orphaned Adams girl, who she had imagined in a vague 
way would be glad of a good home with a prospect of 
some money, if she behaved herself rightly. She had 
pictured a stout, red-cheeked girl who needed training, 
and not a fine little lady like Doris Adams. 

But she was glad Doris had sat there on the rug with 
the cat in her lap. And she was glad there had been the 
summer at Marblehead, and the young man who had 
said more with his eyes than with his lips. He had never 
married, and had been among the earliest to lay down 
his life for his country. She always felt that in a way 
he belonged to her. And if in youth she had had one 
good time, why shouldn't Betty? Perhaps Betty might 
marry in some sensible way that would be for the 
best, and this visit at Hartford would illume all her 
life. 

There were things about it she had never confessed. 
When her conscience upbraided her mightily she called 
them sins and prayed over them. There were other mat 
ters the white bonnet had been one. She had pur- 



WHAT WINTER BROUGHT. 137 

chased it of a friend who was going in mourning, who 
had made her try it on, and said : 

" Just look at yourself in the glass, Priscilla Perkins. 
You never had anything half so becoming. You look 
five years younger! " 

She did look in the glass. She could have pirouetted 
around the room in delight. She was in love with her 
pretty youthful face. 

So she bought the hat at a bargain, of course. She 
put it away when it came home, and visited it surrepti 
tiously, but somehow never had the courage to confess, 
or to propose wearing it, though other women of her 
age indulged in as much and more gayety. In the spring 
she bought a new silk gown, a gray with a kind of lilac 
tint, and cut off the breadths to make sure of it. 

Mr. Perkins viewed it critically. 

" I'm not quite certain, Priscilla, that it is appropriate. 
And a brown would give you so much more good wear. 
It looks too too youthful." 

He never remembered there were fifteen years between 
himself and Priscilla. 

" I I think I would change it." 

" Oh," with the best accent of regret she could assume, 
" I have cut off the breadths and begun to sew them 
up. It's the spring color. And summer is coming." 

" Uu um " with a reluctant nod. 

She wore it to a christening and a wedding, but the 
real delight in it had to be smothered. And when her 
husband proposed she should have it dyed she laid it 
away. 

There were other foolish indulgences. Bows and 
artificial flowers that she had put on bonnets and worn 
in her own room with locked doors, then pulled them 
off and laid them away. She was so fond of pretty 
things, gay things, the pleasures of life and she was 



i 3 8 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

always relegated to the prose ! Other people wore finery 
with a serene calmness, and went about their daily duties, 
to church, on missions of mercy, and were well thought 
of. Where was the sin? Her clothes cost quite as 
much. Mr. Perkins was a close manager but not stingy 
with his wife. 

She used to think she would confess to her mother 
about the dancing, but she never had. She ought to 
bring out these " sins of the eye " and lay them before 
her husband, but she never found the right moment and 
the courage. She had meant to deal them out to the 
Leverett girls, especially Electa but Electa seemed to 
prosper so amazingly! She must do something with 
them, and clear up her life, sweep, and garnish before the 
summons came. She was getting to be old now, and if 
she went off suddenly someone would come in and take 
possession and scatter her treasures. Likely as not it 
would be the Perkinses, for she hadn't made any will. 

Why shouldn't Betty have some of them and go off 
on her good time. It wouldn't be housekeeping and 
spinning and looking after fractious children. But those 
evenings out on the stoop, and the timid invitations to 
take a walk, the pressure of the hand, the smile out of the 
eyes oh, why 

All her life she had been asking " Why? " taking 
the hard and distasteful because she thought there was a 
virtue in it, not because she had been trained to believe 
goodness must have a severe side and that really pleas 
ant things were wicked. The " Whys " had never been 
answered, much as she had prayed about them. 

She would never take the girl to bring up now. As 
for Doris Adams Cousin Winthrop would be thinking 
presently that the ground wasn't good enough for her 
to walk on. So there was only Betty, unless she took up 
some of the Perkins girls. Abby was rather nice. But, 



WHAT WINTER BROUGHT. 139 

after all, her father was only a half-brother to Aunt Pris- 
cilla's husband. And she must make that will. 

" Missus, aint you goin' to come to supper? I told you 
'twas ready full five minutes ago," said an aggrieved 
voice. 

Aunt Priscilla sprang up and gave herself a kind of 
mental shaking. She stepped around to avoid the little 
girl on the rug with the cat in her lap. Polly went on 
grumbling. The toast was cold, the tea had drawn too 
long, and for once the mistress never said a word in 
dispraise. 

" She's goin' off," thought Polly. " That's a bad sign, 
though she does sit over the fire a good deal, and you 
can't tell by that. Land alive! I hope she'll live my 
time out, or I'll sure have to go to the poorhouse ! " 

Aunt Priscilla went back to her fire and the vision of 
the little girl who had made a curious impression on her 
by a kind of sweetness quite new in her experience. It 
had disturbed her greatly. Nothing about the child had 
been as she supposed. 

Everybody went down to her, which meant that she 
had some subtle, indescribable charm, but Aunt Pris 
cilla would have said she had no dictionary words to ex 
plain it, though there had been a speller and definer in 
her day. 

The little girl had come to " seven times " in the 
tables. She had studied an hour, when Betty said they 
had better go and get back by dark. Jamie boy gave a 
little " snicker " as she shut her book. The disdain of 
her young compeer was quite hard to bear, but she 
meekly accepted the fact that she " wasn't smart." If 
she had known how he longed to go with them, she 
would have felt quite even, but he kept that to him 
self. 

All Boston was still hooded in snow, for every few days 



140 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

there came a new fall. Oh, how beautiful it was! 
Everybody walked in the middle of the street, it was so 
hard and smooth, though you had to keep turning out 
for vehicles, but one didn't meet them very often. 

Boots were not made high for girls and women then, 
but everybody had a pair of thick woolen stockings, 
some of them with a leather sole on the outside, which 
was more durable. The children pulled them well up 
over their knees and kept good and warm. Some people 
had leather leggings, but rubber boots had not been 
invented. 

Boys were out snowballing girls, too, for that matter. 
Someone sent a ball that flew all over Doris, but she only 
laughed. She snowballed with little James now and 
then. 

So they were bright and merry when they reached the 
sign of " Jonas Field," and Doris gave her pretty, rather 
formal greeting. She was never quite sure of Aunt 
Priscilla. 

" I suppose you came to see Solomon ! " exclaimed that 
lady. 

" Not altogether," replied Doris. 

" Well, he is out in the kitchen. And, Betty, what is 
the prospect to-day? " 

" Oh, Aunt Priscilla, I almost think I'll get off. 
Father is on my side, and mother did really promise 
'Lecty last summer. Mother couldn't get along alone, 
you know, and Jimmie boy is doing so well at school 
that she would like to keep him all winter. Father 
knows of a girl who would be very glad to come in and 
work for three dollars a month, though he says every 
body gives four or more. But Mr. Eastman will be here 
so soon. Father said I might get some things in 
Hartford." 

" We'll see what Boston has first," returned Aunt Pris- 



WHAT WINTER BROUGHT. 141 

cilia with a little snort. " I've been hunting over my 
things." 

People in those days thought it a great favor to have 
clothes left to them, as you will see by old wills. And 
occasionally the grandmothers brought out garments 
beforehand, and did not wait until they were dead and 
gone. 

" I have a silk gown that I never wore above half a 
dozen times. I could have it dyed, I suppose, but they're 
so apt to get stringy afterward. Maybe you wouldn't 
like it because it's a kind of gray. You're free to leave 
it alone. I shan't be a mite put out." 

The old spirit of holding on reasserted itself. Of 
course, if Betty didn't like it, her duty would be done. 

"Oh, Aunt Priscilla! It looks like moonlight over 
the harbor. It's beautiful." 

The elder woman had shaken it out and made ripples 
with it, and Betty stood in admiring wonderment. It 
looked to her like a wedding gown, but she knew Aunt 
Priscilla's had been Canton crape, dyed brown first and 
then black and then worn out. There was an old adage 
to the effect that one never could get rich until one's 
wedding clothes were worn out. 

" It's spotted some, I find just a faint kind of yellow, 
but that may cut out. I never had any good of it," and 
she sighed. " It isn't what you might call gay ; but, land 
alive! I might as well have bought bright red! There's 
plenty of it to make over. They weren't wearing such 
skimping skirts then, and I had an extra breadth put in 

so that it would all fade alike. Well " And she 

gave a half-reluctant sigh. 

" Why, I feel as if it ought to be saved for a wedding 
gown," declared Betty, her eyes alight with pleasure. 
" It's the most beautiful thing. Oh, Aunt Priscilla! " 

A modern girl would have thrown her arms around 



142 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

Aunt Priscilla's neck and kissed her, if one could imagine 
a modern girl being grateful for a gown a quarter of a 
century old, except for masquerading purposes. People 
who could remember the great Jonathan Edwards awak 
ening still classed all outward demonstrations of regard 
as carnal affections to be subdued. The poor old life 
hungered now for a little human love without under 
standing what its want really was, just as it had hun 
gered for more than half a century. 

" Well, child, maybe 'Lecty can plan to make some 
thing out of it. You better just take it to her. And 
here's a box of ribbons, things I've had no use for this 
many a year. You see I had a way of saving up I 
didn't have much call for wearing such." 

Aunt Priscilla felt that she was renouncing idols. 
How many times she had fingered these things with 
exquisite love and longing and a desire to wear them! 
Madam Bowdoin, almost ten years older, wore her fine 
ribbons and laces and her own snowy white hair in little 
rings about her forehead. No one accused her of aping 
youth. Aunt Priscilla had worn a false front under her 
cap for many a year that was now a rusty, faded brown. 
Her own white hair was cut off close. 

" Oh, Aunt Priscilla, I think my ship has come in from 
the Indies. I never can thank you enough. I'm so glad 
you saved them. You see, times are hard, and if father 
had to pay a girl for taking my place at home, he 
wouldn't feel that he could afford me much finery. And 
the journey, too. But I have only to pay from Spring 
field to Boston, for Mr. Eastman has his own convey 
ance a nice big covered sleigh. And now all these 
beautiful things! I feel as rich as a queen." 

Doris had been standing there big-eyed and never 
once asked for Solomon. 

Aunt Priscilla began to fold the gown. It still had a 



WHAT WINTER BROUGHT. 143 

crackle and rustle delightful to hear. And there was a 
roll of new pieces. 

" Why, next summer I could have a lovely drawn 
bonnet only it does cost so much to have one made. I 
wish I knew how," said Betty. 

" I suppose you don't want to see my old thing? " 
rather contemptuously. 

"The hat, do you mean? Oh, I just should! I've 
thought so much about it, and how queer it is that old- 
fashioned articles should come round." 

" Every seven years, people say; but I don't believe it's 
quite as often as that." 

From the careful way it was pinned up, one would 
never imagine it had been out that very morning. The 
bows were filled with paper to keep them up, and bits of 
paper crumpled up around, so they could not be crushed. 
Its days of whiteness were over, but it was the loveliest, 
softest cream tint, and looked as if it had just come over 
from France. The beaver was almost like plush, and the 
puffed satin lining inside was as fresh as if its reverse 
plaits had just been laid in place. 

" Oh, do put it on! " cried Doris eagerly. 

Betty held the strings together under her fair round 
chin. 

"You look like a queen!" said the child admir 
ingly. 

" Why it is just as they are wearing them now, the tip 
top style. 'Lecty couldn't have described this hat any 
better if she had seen it. And if I can have it, Aunt Pris- 
cilla, I shall not care a bit about feathers. It's beautiful 
enough without." 

" Yes, yes, take them all and have a good time with 
them. Now you see if you can pack it up you'll have 
to learn." 

Aunt Priscilla dropped into her chair. She had cast 



144 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

out her life's temptations, and it had been a great 
struggle. 

" Not that way make the bow stand up. The band 
box is large enough. And give the strings a loose fold, 
so. Now put that white paper over. It's like making a 
gambrel roof. Then bring up the ends of the towel and 
pin them. Polly shall go along and carry it home 
for you." 

" I'm a thousand times obliged. I wish I knew what 
to do in return." 

" Have a good time, but don't forget that a good time 
is not all to life. Child why do you look at me so? " for 
Doris had come close to Aunt Priscilla and seemed 
studying her. 

" Were you ever a little girl, and what was your good 
time like?" 

Doris' wondering eyes were soft and seemed more 
pitying than curious. 

" No, I never was a little girl. There were no little 
girls in my time." She jerked the words out in a spas 
modic way, and put her hand to her heart as if there was 
a pain or pressure. " When I was three year old I had 
to take care of my little brother. I stood up on a bench 
to wash dishes when I was four, and scoured milk-pans 
and the pewter plates we used then. And at six I was 
spinning on the little wheel and knitting stockings. I 
went to school part of every year, and at thirteen I 
was doing a woman's work. No, I never was a little 
girl." 

Doris put her soft hand over the one that had been 
strained and made coarse and large in the joints, and 
roughened as to skin while yet it was in its tender youth. 
And all the pay there had been from her father's estate 
had been three hundred dollars to each girl, the remain 
der being divided evenly among the boys. She felt sud- 



CONCERNING MANY THINGS. 145 

denly grateful to Hatfield Perkins for the easier times of 
her married life. 

" Now, both of you go out in the kitchen and get a 
piece of Polly's fresh gingerbread. She hasn't lost her 
art in that yet. Then you must run off home, for it will 
soon be dark, and Betty will be needed about the 
supper." 

The gingerbread was splendid. Doris broke off little 
crumbs and fed them to Solomon, and told him some 
time she would come and spend the afternoon with him. 
She should be so lonesome when Betty went away. 

Polly carried the bandbox and bundle for them, and 
Betty took the box of ribbons. Aunt Priscilla brought 
out the light-stand and set her candle on it and turned 
over the leaves of her old Bible to read about the daugh 
ters of Zion with their tinkling feet and their cauls and 
their round tires like the moon, the chains and the brace 
lets and the bonnets, the earrings, the mantles, the 
wimples and the crisping pins, the fine linen and the 
hoods and the veils and all these were to be done away 
with! To be sure she did not really know what they all 
were, but her few had been snares and a source of secret 
idolatry for years and years. She had nothing to do 
now but to consider the end of all things and prepare for 
it. But there was the dreaded will yet to make. If only 
there was someone who really cared about her! 

CHAPTER X. 

CONCERNING MANY THINGS. 

\A7HEN Providence overruled, in the early part of 

* the century, people generally gave in. The 

stronger tide was called Providence. Perhaps there was 

a small degree of fatalism in it. So Mrs. Leverett ac- 



146 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

quiesced, and recalled the fact that she had promised 
Electa that Betty should come. 

Aunt Priscilla's generosity was astonishing. The 
silken gown would not be made over until Betty reached 
Hartford. She worked industriously on her white one, 
but her mother found so many things for her to do. 
Then Martha Grant came a stout, hearty, pink-cheeked 
country girl who knew how to " take hold," and was 
glad of an opportunity to earn something toward a wed 
ding gown. Doris was so interested that she hardly re 
membered how much she should miss Betty, though 
Warren promised to help her with her lessons. 

So the trunk was packed. Luckily the bandbox could 
go in it, for it was quite small. Most of the bandboxes 
were immense affairs in which you could stow a good 
many things besides the bonnet. Then they had a calico 
cover with a stout cord run through the hem. 

Mr. Eastman looked rather askance at the trunk he 
had so many budgets of his own, and for his wife. How 
ever, they strapped it on the back securely, and the good- 
bys were uttered for a whole month. 

Doris had said hers in the morning. She could not 
divest herself of a vague presentiment that something 
would happen to keep Betty until to-morrow. But 
Martha was to sit in her place at the table. 

Now that the reign of slavery was over, the farmers' 
girls from the country often came in for a while. They 
were generally taken in as one of the family indeed, few 
of them would have come to be put down to the level of 
a common servant. Many had their old slaves still liv 
ing with them, and numbers of the quality preferred col 
ored servants. 

Jamie boy went out to snowball after dinner. Doris 
worked a line across her sampler. She was going to be 
gin the alphabet next. There were three kinds of letters. 



CONCERNING MANY THINGS. 147 

Ordinary capitals like printing, small letters, and writ 
ing capitals. These were very difficult, little girls 
thought. 

She put up her work presently, studied her spelling, 
and went over " nine times." She could say the ten and 
eleven perfectly, but that very day she had missed on 
" nine times," and Mrs. Webb told her she had better 
study it a little more. 

" I do wonder if you will ever get through with the 
multiplication tables ! " said Aunt Elizabeth. 

Doris sighed. It was hard to be so slow at learning. 

" ' Nine times ' floored me pretty well, I remember," 
confessed Martha Grant. " There's great difference in 
children. Some have heads for figures and some don't. 
My sister Catharine could go all round me. But she's 
that dumb about sewing I don't believe you ever saw 
the beat! She just hates it. She'd like to teach 
school!" 

Doris was very glad to hear that someone else had 
been slow. 

Betty had been out to tea occasionally, and Doris tried 
to make believe it was so now. They would have missed 
her more but Martha was a great talker. There were 
seven children at the Grants', and one son married. 
They had a big farm and a good deal of stock. Martha's 
lover had bought a farm also, with a small old house of 
two rooms. He had to build a new barn, so they would 
wait for their house. She had a nice cow she had raised, 
a flock of twelve geese, and her father had promised her 
the old mare and another cow. She wanted to be 
married by planting time. She had a nice feather bed 
and two pairs of pillows and five quilts, beside two wool 
blankets. 

Mrs. Leverett was a good deal interested in all this. 
It took her back to her own early life. City girls did 



148 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

come to have different ideas. There was something re 
freshing in this very homeliness. 

Martha knit and sewed as fast as she talked. Mrs. 
Leverett said " she didn't let the grass grow under her 
feet," and Doris wondered if she would tread it out in 
the summer. Of course, it couldn't grow in the winter. 

" Aunt Elizabeth," she said presently, in a sad little 
voice, " am I to sleep all alone?" 

" Oh dear, no. You would freeze to an icicle. 
Martha will take Betty's place." 

They wrapped up a piece of brick heated pretty well 
when Doris went to bed. For it was desperately cold. 
But the soft feathers came up all around one, and in a 
little while she was as warm as toast. She did not even 
wake when Martha came to bed. Sometimes Betty 
cuddled the dear little human ball, and only half awake 
Doris would return the hug and find a place to kiss, 
whether it was cheek or chin. 

" Aunt Elizabeth," when she came in from school one 
day, " do you know that Christmas will be here soon 
next Tuesday? " 

" Well, yes," deliberately, " it is supposed to be Christ 
mas." 

" But it really is," with child-like eagerness. " The 
day on which Christ was born." 

" The day that is kept in commemoration of the birth 
of Christ. But some people try to remember every day 
that Christ came to redeem the world. So that one day 
is not any better than another." 

Doris looked puzzled. " At home we always kept it," 
she said slowly. " Miss Arabella made a Christmas cake 
and ever so many little ones. The boys came around to 
sing Noel, and they were given a cake and a penny, and 
we went to church." 

" Yes; it is quite an English fashion. When you are 



CONCERNING MANY THINGS. 149 

a larger girl and more used to our ways you will under 
stand why we do not keep it." 

" Don't you really keep it? " in surprise. 

" No, my dear." 

The tone was kind, but not encouraging to further 
enlightenment. Doris experienced a great sense of dis 
appointment. For a little while she was very home 
sick for Betty. To have her away a whole month! 
And a curious thing was that no one seemed really to 
miss her and wish her back. Mrs. Leverett scanned the 
weather and the almanac and hoped they would get 
safely to Springfield without a storm. Mr. Leverett 
counted up the time. It had not stormed yet. 

No Christmas and no Betty. Not even a wise old cat 
like Solomon, or a playful, amusing little kitten. The 
school children stared when she talked about Christmas. 

Two big tears fell on her book. She was frightened, 
for she had not meant to cry. And now a sense of deso 
lation rushed over her. Oh, what could she do without 
Betty! 

Then a sleigh stopped at the door. She ran to the 
window, and when she saw that it was Uncle Winthrop 
she was out of the door like a flash. 

"Well, little one?" he said in pleasant inquiry, which 
seemed to comprehend a great deal. " How do you get 
along without Betty? Come in out of the cold. I've 
just been wondering if you would like to come over and 
keep Christmas with me. I believe they do not have any 
Christmas here." 

" No, they do not. Oh, Uncle Win, I should be so 
glad to come, if I wouldn't trouble you! " 

The eyes were full of entreating light. 

" I have been thinking about it a day or two. And 
Recompense is quite willing. The trouble really would 
be hers, you know." 



150 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

" I would try and not make any trouble." 

" Oh, it was where we should put you to sleep this cold 
weather. You would be lost in the great guest chamber. 
But Recompense arranged it all. She has put up a little 
cot in the corner of her room. I insisted last winter that 
she should keep a fire; she is a little troubled with rheu 
matism. And now she enjoys the warmth very much." 

" Oh, how good you are! " 

She was smiling now and dancing around on one foot. 
He smiled too. 

" Where's Aunt Elizabeth? " said Uncle Winthrop. 

Doris ran to the kitchen and, not seeing her, made the 
same inquiry. 

" She's gone up to the storeroom to find a lot of 
woolen patches for me, and I'm going to start another 
quilt. She said she'd never use them in the days of 
creation, and they wan't but six. She'll be down in a 
minute," said Martha. 

" Uncle Winthrop," going back to him beside the fire, 
and wrinkling up her brow a little, " is not Christmas 
truly Christmas? Has anyone made a mistake about 
it?" 

" My child, everybody does not keep it in the same 
manner, Sometime you will learn about the brave 
heroes who came over and settled in a strange land, 
fought Indians and wild beasts, and then fought again 
for liberty, and why they differed from their brethren. 
But I always keep it; and I thought now that Betty was 
gone you might like to come and go to church with me." 

" Oh, I shall be glad to! " with a joyful smile. 

Aunt Elizabeth entered. Cousin Winthrop presented 
his petition that he should take Doris over this after 
noon and bring her back on Wednesday, unless there 
was to be no school all the week. 

" I'm afraid she will bother Recompense. You're so 



CONCERNING MANY THINGS. 151 

little used to children, I keep my hand in with grand 
children," smilingly. 

" No word from Betty yet? About Doris now oh, 
you need not be afraid; I think Recompense is quite in 
the notion." 

" Well, if you think best. Doris isn't a mite of 
trouble, I will say that. No, we can't hear from Betty 
before to-morrow. Mr. Eastman thought likely he'd 
find someone coming right back from Springfield, and I 
charged Betty to send if she could. I'm glad there has 
been no snow so far." 

" Very fair winter weather. How is Foster and busi 
ness?" 

" Desperately dull, both of them," and Mrs. Leverett 
gave a piquant nod that would have done Betty credit. 

" Go get your other clothes, Doris, and Martha will 
see to you. And two white aprons. Recompense keeps 
her house as clean as a pink, and you couldn't get soiled 
if you rolled round the floor. But dirt doesn't stick to 
Doris. There, run along, child." 

Martha scrubbed her rigorously, and then helped her 
dress. She came back bright as a new pin, with her two 
high-necked aprons in her hand, and her nightgown, 
which Aunt Elizabeth put in her big black camlet bag. 

" I wish you'd see that she studies a little, Winthrop. 
She is so behind in some things." 

He nodded. Then Doris put on her hood and cloak 
and said good-by to Martha, while she kissed Aunt 
Elizabeth and left a message for the rest. 

" It's early, so we will take a little ride around," he 
said, wrapping her up snug and warm. 

The plan had been in his mind for several days. The 
evening before he had broached it to Recompense. Not 
but what he was master in his own house, but he hardly 
knew how to plan for a child. 



152 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

" If Doris was a boy I could put him on the big sofa in 
my room. Still, Cato can look after a fire in the guest 
chamber. It would be too cruel to put a child alone in 
that great cold barn." 

There was a very obstinate impression that it was 
healthy to sleep in cold rooms, so people shut themselves 
up pretty close, and sometimes drew the bedclothes over 
their heads. But Winthrop Adams had a rather luxuri 
ous side to his nature; he called it a premonition of old 
age. He kept a fire in his dressing room, where he often 
sat and read a while at night. His sleeping room ad 
joined it. 

" Why, we might bring a cot in my room," she said. 
" I remember how the child delights in a fire. She's 
such a delicate-looking little thing." 

" She is standing our winter very well and goes to 
school every day. Fm afraid she might disturb you? " 

" Not if she has a bed by herself. And there is the 
corner jog; the cot will just fit into it." 

When they put it there in the morning it looked as if 
it must have taken root long ago. Then Recompense 
arranged a nice dressing table with a white cover and a 
pretty bowl and ewer, and a low chair beside it covered 
with chintz cushions. Her own high-post bedstead had 
curtains all around it of English damask, and the curi 
ously carved high-back chairs had cushions tied in of 
the same material. There was no carpet on the painted 
floor, but a rug beside the bed and one at the stand, and a 
great braided square before the fire. It was a well-fur 
nished room for the times, though that of Mr. Adams was 
rather more luxurious. 

He was very glad that Recompense had assented so 
readily, for he was beginning to feel that he ought to 
take a deeper interest in his little ward. 

There were numberless sleighs out on some of the 



CONCERNING MANY THINGS. 153 

favorite thoroughfares. For even now, in spite of the 
complaints of hard times, there was a good deal of real 
wealth in Boston, fine equipages with colored coachmen 
and footmen. There were handsome houses with lawns 
and gardens, some of them having orchards besides. 
There were rich furnishings as well, from France and 
England and from the East. There were china and plate 
and glass proud of their age, having come through 
several generations. 

And though there were shades and degrees of social 
position, there was a fine breeding among the richer 
people and a kind of pride among the poorer ones. 
Tli ere were occasions when they mingled with an agree 
able courtesy, yet each side kept its proper and dis 
tinctive relations; real worth was respected and dignified 
living held in esteem. From a printer's boy, Benjamin 
Franklin had stood before kings and added luster to his 
country. From a farm at Braintree had come one of the 
famous Adamses and his not less notable wife, who had 
admirably filled the position of the first lady of the 
land. 

Yet the odd, narrow, crooked streets of a hundred 
years before were running everywhere, occasionally 
broadened and straightened. There were still wide 
spaces and pasture fields, declivities where the barberry 
bush and locust and May flower grew undisturbed. 
There were quaint nooks with legends, made famous 
since by eloquent pens; there were curious old shops 
designated by queer sign and symbols. 

But even the pleasures were taken in a leisurely, digni 
fied way. There was no wild rush to stand at the head 
or to outdo a neighbor, or astonish those who might be 
looking on and could not participate. 

Doris enjoyed it wonderfully. She had a sudden ac 
cession of subtle pride when some fine old gentleman 



154 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

bowed to Uncle Win, or a sleigh full of elegantly attired 
ladies smiled and nodded. There were large hats fram 
ing in pretty faces, and bows and nodding plumes on the 
top such as Mrs. King had written about. Oh, how 
lovely Betty would look in hers! What was Hartford 
like; and New Haven, with its college; then, farther 
on, New York; and Washington, where the Presidents 
lived while they held office? She was learning so many 
things about this new home. 

Over here on the Common the boys were drawn up in 
two lines and snowballing as if it was all in dead earnest. 
And this was the rambling old house with its big porch 
and stepping block, and its delightful welcome. 

" Are you not most frozen? " asked Miss Recompense. 
" Here is the fire you like so much. Take off your 
cloak and hood. We are very glad to have you come 
and make us a visit." 

" Oh, are you? " Doris' face was a gleam of delight. 
"And I am glad to come. I was beginning to feel 
dreadfully lonesome without Betty. I ought not when 
there were so many left," and a bright color suffused her 
face. " Then there is little James." 

" And we have no small people." 

" I never had any over home, you know. And so 
many people here have such numbers of brothers and 
sisters. It must be delightful." 

" But they are not all little at once." 

" No," laughed Doris. " I should like to be some 
where in the middle. Babies are so cunning, when they 
don't cry." 

Miss Recompense smiled at that. 

There was a comfortable low chair for Doris, and 
Uncle Win found her seated there, the ruddy firelight 
throwing up her face like a painting. Miss Recompense 
went out to see about the supper. There was a good- 



CONCERNING MANY THINGS. 155 

natured black woman in the kitchen to do the cooking, 
and Cato, who did the outside work and waited on 
Dinah and Miss Recompense a tall, sedate, rather pom 
pous colored man. 

Some indefinable charm about the house appealed to 
Doris. The table was arranged in such an attractive 
manner. Nothing could be more delightful than Aunt 
Elizabeth's cooking, but she stopped short at an in 
visible something. The china was saved for company, 
though there was one pretty cup they always gave to 
Aunt Priscilla. The everyday dishes were earthen, such 
as ordinary people used, and being of rather poor glaze 
they soon checked. Doris knew these pretty plates and 
the tall cream jug and sugar dish had not been brought 
out especially for her, though she had supposed they 
were when they all came over to a company tea. 

She started so when Uncle Winthrop addressed her in 
French, and glanced at him in amaze; then turned to a 
pink glow and laughed as she collected her scattered wits 
to answer. 

What a soft, exquisite accent the child had! Miss 
Recompense paused in her pouring tea to listen. 

Uncle Win smiled and continued. They were around 
the pretty tea table in a sort of triangle. Uncle Win 
passed the thin, dainty slices of bread. Miss Recom 
pense, when she was done with the tea, passed the cold 
chicken. Then there were cheese and two kinds of pre 
serves, plain cake and fruit cake. 

Children rarely drank tea, so Doris had some milk in 
a glass which was cut with just a sparkle here and there 
that the light caught and made brilliant. 

" How you can understand any such talk as that beats 
me," said Miss Recompense in a sort of helpless fashion 
as she glanced from one to the other. 

" And if we were abroad talking English the for- 



156 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

eigners would say the same thing," replied Mr. 
Adams. 

" But there is some sense in English." 

He laughed a little. " And if we lived in China we 
would think there was a good deal of sense in Chinese, 
which is said to be one of the queerest languages in the 
world." 

We did not know very much about China in those 
days, and our knowledge was chiefly gleaned from rather 
rude maps and some old histories, and the wonderful 
tales of sea captains. 

" It would be a pity for you to fall back when you are 
such a good scholar," Uncle Win said, looking over to 
Doris. " One forgets quite easily. I find I am a little 
lame. But you like your school, and it is near by this 
cold weather. Perhaps you and I can keep up enough 
interest to exercise our memories. You have some 
French books? " 

" Two or three. I tried to read ' Paul and Virginia ' 
to Betty, but it took so long to tell the story over that 
she didn't get interested. There were so many lessons, 
too." 

She did not say that Aunt Elizabeth had discounte 
nanced it. People were horrified by French novels 
in those days. Rousseau and Voltaire had been held in 
some degree responsible for the terrible French Revolu 
tion. And people shuddered at the name of Tom Paine. 

At first the Colonies, as they were still largely called, 
had been very much interested in the new French Repub 
lic. Lafayette had been so impressed with the idea of a 
government of the people when he had lent his assistance 
to America, that he had joined heartily in a plan for the 
regeneration of France. But after the king was exe 
cuted, Sunday abolished, and the government passed 
into the hands of tyrants who shouted " liberty " and 



CONCERNING MANY THINGS. 157 

yet brought about the slavery of terror, he and many 
others had stood aside indeed, left their beloved city to 
the mob. Then had come the first strong and promis 
ing theories of Napoleon. He had been first Consul, 
then Consul for life, then Emperor, and was now the 
scourge of Europe. 

To Mrs. Leverett all French books were as actors and 
plays, to be shunned. That any little girl should have 
read a French story or be able to repeat French verses 
was quite horrifying. She had a feeling that it really be 
littled the Bible to appear in the French language. 

" Yes," returned Uncle Winthrop assentingly. He 
could understand the situation, for he knew Mrs. Lev- 
erett's prejudices were very strong, and continuous. 
That she was a thoroughly good and upright woman he 
readily admitted. 

The supper being finished they went to the cozy hall 
fire again. You had to sit near it to keep comfortable, 
for the rooms were large in those days and the outer 
edges chilly. Some people were putting up great 
stoves in their halls and the high pipes warmed the stairs 
and all around. 

Miss Recompense brought out some knitting. She 
was making a spread in small squares, red, white, and 
blue, and it would be very fine when it was done. 
Doris was very much interested when she laid down the 
squares to display the pattern. 

" I suppose you knit? " remarked Miss Recompense. 

" No. I don't know how. Betty showed me a little. 
And Aunt Elizabeth is going to teach me to make a 
stocking. It seems very easy when you see other people 
do it," and Doris sighed. " But I am afraid I am not 
very smart about a good many things besides tables." 

That honest admission rather annoyed Uncle Win. 
Elizabeth had said it as well. For his part he did not 



158 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

see that reading the Bible through by the time you were 
eight years old and knitting a pile of stockings was 
proof of extraordinary ability. 

" What kind of fancy work can you do? " asked Miss 
Recompense. 

" I've begun a sampler. That isn't hard. And Miss 
Arabella taught me to hem and to darn and to make 
lace." 

" Make lace! What kind of lace? " 

" Like the beautiful lace Madam Sheafe makes. Only 
I never did any so wide. But Miss Arabella used to. 
Betty took me there one afternoon. Madam Sheafe has 
such a lovely little house. And, oh, Uncle Win, she can 
talk French a little." 

He smiled and nodded. 

" You see," began Doris with sweet seriousness, 
" there was no one to make shirts for, and I suppose Miss 
Arabella thought it wasn't worth while. But I hemmed 
some on Uncle Leverett's, and Aunt Elizabeth said it 
was very nicely done." 

" I dare say." She looked as if anything she under 
took would be nicely done, Miss Recompense thought. 

" Betty was learning housekeeping when she went 
to Hartford. I think that is very nice. To make pies 
and bread and cake, and roast chickens and turkeys and 
everything. But little girls have to go to school first. 
Six years is a long time, isn't it?" 

A half-smile crossed the grave face of Miss Recom 
pense. 

" It seems a long time to a little girl, no doubt, but 
when you are older it passes very rapidly. There are 
years that prove all too short for the work crowded in 
them, and then they begin to lengthen again, though I 
suppose that is because we no longer hurry to get a cer 
tain amount of work done." 



CONCERNING MANY THINGS. 159 

" I wish the afternoons could be longer." 

" They will be in May. I like the long afternoons 
too, though the winter evenings by a cheerful fire are 
very enjoyable." 

" The world is so beautiful," said Doris, " that you 
can hardly tell which you do like best. Only the sum 
mer, with its flowers and the sweet, green out-of-doors, 
fills one with a kind of thanksgiving. Why did they not 
have Thanksgiving in the summer? " 

" Because we give thanks for a bountiful harvest." 

" Oh," Doris responded. 

Uncle Winthrop watched her as she chattered on, her 
voice like a soft, purling rill. Presently Dinah called 
Miss Recompense out in the kitchen to consult her about 
the breakfast, for she went to bed as soon as she had the 
kitchen set to rights. Then Doris glanced over to him 
in a shy, asking fashion, and brought her chair to his 
side. He inquired about Father Langhorne, and found 
he had been educated in Paris, and was really a Roman 
priest. 

Perhaps it was the province of childhood to see good 
in everybody. Or was it due to the simple life, the ab 
sence of that introspection, which had already done so 
much to make the New England conscience supersen- 
sitive and strenuous. 

When Miss Recompense returned she found them 
deep in French again. Doris laughed softly when Uncle 
Winthrop blundered a little, and perhaps he did it now 
and then purposely. 

The big old clock that said " Forever, never! " long 
before Longfellow's time, measured off nine hours. 

" It's funny," said Doris, " but I'm not a bit sleepy, 
and at Uncle Leverett's I almost nod, sometimes. May 
be it's the French." 

" I should not wonder," and Uncle Win smiled. 



!6o A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

" We will both go it is about my time," remarked 
Miss Recompense. " Your uncle sits up all hours of the 
night." 

" And would like to sleep all hours of the morning," 
he returned humorously, " but Miss Recompense won't 
let me. If she raises her little finger the whole house 
moves." 

" Then she doesn't raise it very often," said that lady. 
" But it does seem a sin to sleep away good wholesome 
daylight." 

" There were some candlesticks on a kind of secretary 
with a shelf-like top, and she lighted one, stepping out 
in the kitchen to see that all was safe and to bid Cato 
lock up. When she returned the candle was sending 
out its cheerful beam, so she nodded to Doris, who said 
good-night to Uncle Winthrop and followed her. 

Doris had an odd, company-like feeling. Her little bed 
was pretty, and the room had a fragrance of summer 
time, of roses and lavender. Miss Recompense stirred 
the fire and put on a big log. Then she sat down by 
the stand and read her nightly chapter, turning a little 
to give Doris a kind of privacy. 

" I hope you will sleep well. Your uncle thought 
you would be lonesome in the guest chamber." 

" I would ever so much rather be here. And the bed 
is so small and cunning, just the bed for a little girl. 
Thank you ever so many times." 

She said her prayers and breathed a soft good-night 
to the fire. And though she did not feel strange nor 
sleepy, and wondered about Betty and a dozen other 
things, one of the last remembrances was the glimmer of 
the candle on the wall, and the soft rustling of the blaze, 
that said " Snow, snow, snow." 



A LITTLE CHRISTMAS. 161 

CHAPTER XL 

A LITTLE CHRISTMAS. 

C URE enough, it snowed the next morning one of the 
**^ soft, clinging storms that loaded every branch with 
a furry aspect, made mounds of the shrubs, and wrapped 
the south sides of the houses with a mantle of dazzling 
whiteness. Now and then a patch fell off, and a long 
pendant would swing from the trees, and finally drop. 
It was a delight to see them. 

The breakfast was laid on the same small table in use 
last night, but Cato brought in everything hot, and 
" waited " as Barby used at home. Uncle Winthrop said 
she looked bright as a rose, and her cheeks had a deli 
cate pink. 

Afterward he invited her in his study and told her she 
might look about and perhaps find a book to entertain 
herself with while he wrote some letters. 

" Thank you. I hope I shall not disturb you." 

" Oh, no." He felt somehow he could answer for her. 
She was so gentle in her movements, and he really 
wanted to see how he liked having a little girl about. 
There was a vague idea in his mind that he might decide 
to have her here some day, since Miss Recompense had 
taken a sort of fancy to her. 

Oh, what a luxury it was to wander softly about and 
read titles and look at bindings and speculate on what 
she would like! They had very few books at Uncle Lev- 
erett's. Some volume of sermons, a few biographies 
that she had found rather dreary, a history of the French- 
Canadian War, and some of Poor Richard's Almanacs, 
which she thought the most amusing of all. 

There was a, circulating library that Warren patronized 



162 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

occasionally. There was also the nucleus of a free 
library, but so far people had been too busy to think 
much about reading, except the scholarly minds. Books 
were expensive, too, and very few persons accumulated 
any stock of them. Of Mr. Adams' collection some had 
come to him from his father, and Cousin Charles, who 
had been called a " queer stick," had some English, 
Latin, and Italian poets that he had bequeathed to the 
book lover. 

Winthrop Adams was a collector of several things be 
side books. Now and then at an auction sale on some 
one's death he picked up odd articles that were of value. 
And so his study was a kind of conglomerate. He had a 
cabinet of coins from different parts of the world and 
curios from India and Egypt. Napoleon's campaign in 
Egypt had awakened a good deal of interest in the coun 
try of the Pharaohs. 

Doris was so still he glanced around presently. She 
was curled up in the corner of the chimney, a book on 
her knees and her head bent over until the curls fell 
about her in a cloud. When Elizabeth had spoken of the 
benefit it might be to a growing child to have them cut 
he had protested at once. They were rarely beautiful, he 
decided now, gleaming gold in the firelight. 

She had a feeling presently that someone was looking 
at her, so she raised her head, shook away the curls, and 
smiled. 

" Did you find something? " 

" ' The Vicar of Wakefield/ Uncle Winthrop. Oh, it 
is delightful! You said I might read anything!" with 
a touch of hesitation. 

" That was quite a wide permission," and he smiled. 
He couldn't see how that would hurt anyone, but he was 
not sure of a girl's reading. 

" I opened it at a picture ' Preparing Moses for the 



A LITTLE CHRISTMAS. 163 

Fair.' It made me think of Betty going to Hartford. It 
was so interesting to wonder what you would do, and 
then to have things happen just right. Aunt Priscilla 
was so nice. I thought I couldn't like her at first, but I 
do now. You can't find out all about anyone in a 
minute, can you?" 

" I think not," rather humorously. 

" So then I turned to the first of the book. And the 
Vicar's wife must have known a good deal to read with 
out much spelling. There are some awful hard words in 
the back of Betty's spelling book. Do you suppose she 
learned tables and all that? " 

" I don't believe she did." 

" And she could keep house." 

" They were a notable couple." 

He took up his pen again and she turned to her book. 

Suddenly a flood of golden sunshine poured across the 
floor, fairly dimming the fire. 

"Oh, Uncle Winthrop!" With her book pressed 
tightly against her body, she flew over to the window like 
a bird, disturbing nothing, and making only a soft flutter. 

"Isn't it glorious!" 

The edges of the snow everywhere were illumined with 
the prismatic rays in proper order. The tree branches 
caught them, the corners of the houses, the window 
hoods, the straggling bushes, the fences. Everywhere 
the sublime beauty was repeated until everything quiv 
ered with the excess. 

" It is like the New Jerusalem," she said. 

The air had softened a great deal. The sun on the 
window panes spoke of latent warmth. A slight breeze 
stirred the air, and down came the clinging snow in 
showers, leaving the trees bare and brown, except the 
few evergreens. 

" It is warmer," Mr. Adams said. " Though it is near- 



164 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

ing noon, the warmest part of the day. And so far you 
have stood the cold weather very well, little Doris," smil 
ing down in the eager face. 

" I've snowballed too, and it is real fun. I can slide 
ever so far, and I've ridden on Jimmie boy's sled. Betty 
thinks I would soon learn to skate. I would like to very 
much." 

"Then you must have some skates." 

" But I am afraid Betty may not come home in time to 
teach me." 

" Someone else might." 

" Do you skate? " in soft inquiry. 

" Not now; I used to. But I am not a young man, 
and not very energetic. I like warm firesides and a nice 
book. I am afraid I shall make an ease-loving old man." 

" But isn't it right to be " what word would express 
it? " happy, comfortable? For why should you try to 
make anyone happy if it was wrong? 

" It is not wrong." 

The sky was very blue now, and the snow began to 
have an ethereal look. Cato came out to shovel and 
clear away some paths. He struck the young hemlocks 
and firs with a stick and beat the snow out of them. 

" The snow settles in the branches and sometimes 
freezes and that kills a little place," said Uncle Winthrop 
in answer to the questioning eyes. 

They walked back to the table, with his arm over her 
shoulder. 

" I am done my writing for to-day," he began. " I 
wonder if you would mind answering a few questions?" 

" Oh, no if I knew the answers," smilingly. 

" Then tell me first of all how far you went in Latin. 
This is a grammar." 

She turned some leaves. " I didn't know it very well," 
skimming over the pages. " It was not like this book, 



A LITTLE CHRISTMAS. 165 

and " hanging her head a little " I did not like it 
that and the sums." 

" Who put you to studying it? " 

" Oh, the father did. He said Latin was the key to 
all other languages. I wonder how many I shall have to 
learn? Miss Arabella said it was foolishness, except the 
French." 

" Let me hear you read a little. This is not difficult." 

He was not sure there was any call for a girl to know 
Latin. French seemed quite necessary. 

She began in a hesitating manner and blundered some 
what at first, but as she went on gained courage, her 
voice growing firmer and clearer. 

" Why, that is very well. You ought to be at a higher 
school than Mrs. Webb's. And now let us consider these 
dreadful sums. The paper and a pencil will do." 

He put down quite a sum in addition. There were 
several nines and sevens in it. 

She drew a long breath. 

" It is a big sum. I haven't done any as large as that." 

" Well, begin. Add as I call them off." 

Alas! After three figures, in puzzling over an eight, 
the amount went out of her mind and she had to begin 
again. Uncle Winthrop made a mark at one figure and 
put down the amount beside it. After a while she reached 
the top of the column. Clearly heaven had not meant 
her for a mathematician. There was no rapport between 
her figures. 

Her eyes were limpid, almost as if there were tears in 
them. 

" Maybe that was pretty difficult for a little girl. I 
know most about big boys and young men." 

" Betty just guesses, this way eight and nine, and it 
comes quite as easy as if I had said two and three are 
five." 



i66 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

Uncle Win gave his gentle smile and it comforted her 
greatly. 

" This quickness comes by practice. When you have 
had six years' study you may know as much as Betty in 
arithmetic, and you will know more in some other 
branches." 

" If I can just know as much," she said wistfully. 

Cato gave a gentle rap on the open door. 

" Juno's ready," he announced. " Will master take 
little missy out, or shall I go for Master Gary? " 

" I had not thought. Would you like to go, Doris? " 

Her eyes answered him before she could speak. 

" You may put in the other seat, Cato, and drive." 

Cato bowed in a dignified manner. 

" Now run and bundle up well," said Uncle Win. 

Miss Recompense seemed to know a good deal about 
little girls, if she had none of her own. She tied a soft 
silk kerchief over Doris' ears before she put on her hood. 
Then she told Dinah to slip the soapstone in the foot- 
stove, and drew the long stockings up over her knees. 

" Now you could go up to Vermont and not get cold," 
she said pleasantly. 

But after all it was not so very cold. The sun shone 
in golden magnificence and almost dazzled your eyes out. 
Uncle Win had on his smoked glasses, and he looked 
very queer, but she saw other people with this protection. 
Some of the glasses were green. 

The streets were really merry. Children were out 
with sleds, and snowballing parties were in the field. 
They went over to State Street for the mail. Cato 
sprang out and returned with quite a budget. There 
was one English letter with a big black seal, but Mr. 
Adams covered it quickly with the papers and drew the 
package under the buffalo robe. 

There was a quaint old bookstore in Cornhill with the 



A LITTLE CHRISTMAS. 167 

sign of Heart and Crown, that was quite a meeting place 
for students and bookish people, and they drove thither. 
A young lad came running out, making a bow and greet 
ing his father politely. To have said " Hillo! " in those 
days would have been horrifying. And to have called 
one's father the " governor " or the " old gentleman " 
would have been little short of a crime. 

" This is the little English cousin, Doris Adams," said 
Uncle Win, " and this is my son Cary." 

Cary made a bow to her and said he was glad to meet 
her, then inquired after his father's health and stepped 
into the sleigh, picking up the reins and motioning Cato 
to the other side. 

Oh, how they spun along! Cary said one or two things, 
but the words were carried away by the wind. There 
were sleighs full of ladies and children, great family affairs 
with three seats ; there were cutters with some portly man 
and a black driver; there were well-known people and 
unknown people who were to come to the fore in a few 
years and be famous. 

For Boston was throbbing even then with the mighty 
changes transforming her into a great city. Although 
she had suffered severely at the first of the war and held 
many priceless memories of it, the early evacuation of the 
town had left her free for domestic matters, which had 
prospered despite poverty and hard times and the great 
loss of population. Many of the old Tory families had 
returned to England, and the remnants of the provincial 
aristocracy were being lessened by death and absorbed 
by marriage. The squires and gentry of the small towns, 
most of them intense patriots, had filled their places and 
given tone to social life, that was still formal, if some of 
the old stateliness had slipped away. 

The French Revolution had brought about some other 
changes. The State possessed fine advantages for mari- 



168 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

time commerce, and all the seaports were veritable hives 
of industry in the early part of the century. This laid 
a foundation of respect for fortunes acquired by energy 
rather than inheritance. The United States, being the 
only neutral nation in the fierce conflicts raging round 
the world, had been reaping a rich harvest for several 
years. Sea captains and merchants had been thriving 
splendidly until the last year or two, when seizures began 
to be made by the British Government that roused a fer 
ment of warlike spirit again. 

But while men talked politics the women and those 
who thought it wiser to take neither side, still amused 
themselves with card parties, tea parties and dances, 
with now and then an evening at the theater, and driv 
ing. There were so many fine long roads not yet cut up 
into blocks that were great favorites on a day like this. 
Doris felt the exhilaration and her eyes shone like 
stars. 

Presently Gary turned, and here they were at Common 
Street. 

" That has been fine ! " he began as he drew up to the 
door. " It sets your blood all a-sparkle. Have I taken 
your breath away, little cousin? " 

He came around and offered his hand to his father. 
Then he lifted Doris as if she had been a feather, and 
stood her on the broad porch. That recalled Warren 
Leverett to her mind. 

" It was splendid," answered Doris. 

They all walked in together, and Gary shook hands 
cordially with Miss Recompense. 

He was almost as tall as his father, with a fair, boyish 
face and thick light hair that did not curl, but tumbled 
about and was always falling over his forehead. 

Warren was stouter and had more color, and there was 
a kind of laughing expression to his face. Gary's had a 



A LITTLE CHRISTMAS. 169 

certain resolution and that loftiness we are given to call 
ing aristocratic. 

When Doris had carried the footstove to Dinah, and 
her own wraps upstairs, she stood for a moment uncer 
tain. Gary and his father were talking eagerly in the 
study, so she sat down by the hall fire and began to 
think about the Vicar and Mrs. Primrose, and wanted to 
know what Moses did at the Fair. She had been at one 
town fair, but she could not recall much besides the 
rather quaintly and gayly dressed crowd. Then there 
was a summons to supper. 

" Oh," cried Gary, " sit still a moment. You look like 
a page of Mother Goose. You can't be Miss Muffet, for 
you have no curds and whey, and you are not Jack 
Horner " 

She sprang up then and caught Uncle Winthrop's 
hand. " Nor Mother Goose," she rejoined laugh 
ingly. 

The plates were moved just a little. Gary sat between 
her and his father. 

" I have heard quite a good deal about you," he began. 
" Are you French or English? " 

She caught a tiny gleam in Uncle Win's eye, and 
gravely answered in French. 

" How do you get along there in Sudbury Street? 
Who does the talking? " he asked in surprise. 

" We all talk," she answered. 

He flushed a little and then gave an amused nod. 

" Upon my word, you are not slow, if the weather is 
cold. And you parles-vous like a native. Now, if you 
and father want to say anything bad about me, you may 
hope to keep it a secret, but I warn you that I can under 
stand French to some extent." 

" I shall not say anything bad," she returned naively. 
Adding, " Why, I don't know anything bad." 



170 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

" Oh, Miss Recompense, isn't it nice to be perfect in 
someone's eyes? " he laughed. 

" Wait until she has known you several years." 

" But you have known me several years," appealingly. 

" It is best to begin with an unbiased opinion." 

" I shall get Betty to speak a good word for me. You 
have confidence in Betty? " 

" I love Betty," Doris said simply. 

" And Boston. That begins with a B too. You 
must love Boston, and the State of Massachusetts, and 
the whole United States. And if there comes another 
war you must be true to the flag and the country. No 
skipping off to England, mind." 

" I couldn't skip across the whole Atlantic." 

" Then you would have to stay. Which is the nicest, 
Sudbury Street or this? " 

" Gary, you have teased enough," said his father. 

" I think the out-of-doors of this will be the prettiest 
in the summer," replied Doris gravely, " and when I 
came off the ship I thought the indoors in Sudbury 
Street just delightful. There was such a splendid fire, 
and everybody was so kind." 

Gary glanced up at his father, who gave his soft half- 
smile. 

" You were a brave little girl not to be homesick." 

" I did want to see Miss Arabella, and the pony. I 
had such a darling pony." 

" Why, you can have a pony next summer," said Uncle 
Win. " I am very fond of riding." 

Doris' face was filled with speechless delight. 

After supper they sat round the fire and Gary asked 
her about the Old Boston. She had very good descrip 
tive powers. Her life had been so circumscribed there 
that it had deepened impressions, and the young fellow 
listened quite surprised. Like his father he had known 



A LITTLE CHRISTMAS. 171 

very little about girls in their childhood. She was so 
quaintly pretty, too, with the bow of dark ribbon high 
up on her head, amid the waving light hair. 

Some time after Uncle Winthrop said : 

" Doris, I have a letter from Miss Arabella. Would 
you not like to come in the study and read it? " 

" Oh, yes," and she sprang up with the lightness of a 
bird. 

He had cut around the great black seal. Sometime 
Doris might be glad to have the letter intact. There 
were no envelopes then besides those used for state 
purposes. 

" Dear and Respected Sir," it began in the formal, old- 
fashioned manner. She had been rejoiced to hear of 
Doris' safe arrival and continued good health, and every 
day she saw the wisdom of the change, though she had 
missed the child sorely. Her sister had passed peace 
fully away soon after the departure of Doris, a loss to be 
accepted with resignation, since her life on earth had long 
ceased to have any satisfaction to herself. Her own 
health was very much broken, and she knew it would not 
be long before she should join those who had preceded 
her in a better land. When this occurred there would 
be some articles forwarded to him for Doris, and again 
she commended the little girl to his affectionate interest 
and care, and hoped she would grow into a sweet and 
useful womanhood and be all her parents could wish if 
they had lived. 

" Dear Miss Arabella! " Doris wiped the tears from 
her eyes. How strange the little room must look with 
out Miss Henrietta sitting at the window babbling of 
childish things! "And she is all alone with Barby. 
How sad it must be. I should not like to live alone." 

Unconsciously she drew nearer Uncle Winthrop. He 
put his arm over her shoulder in a caressing manner, and 



172 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

his heart was moved with sympathy for the solitary lady 
across the ocean. 

Doris thought of Aunt Priscilla and wondered whether 
she ever was lonesome. 

Sunday was still bright, and somehow felt warm when 
contrasted with the biting weather of the last ten days. 
The three went to old Trinity Church, that stood then on 
a corner of Summer Street a plain wooden building 
with a gambrel roof, quite as old-fashioned inside as out, 
and even now three-quarters of a century old. Up to the 
Revolution the king and the queen, when there was one, 
had been prayed for most fervently. The Church con 
ceded this point reluctantly, since there were many who 
doubted the success of the struggle. But the clergy had 
resigned from King's Chapel and Christ Church. For a 
long while afterward Dr. Mather Byles had kept himself 
before the people by his wit and readiness for controversy, 
and the two old ladies, his sisters, were well known for 
their adherence to Royalist costumes and the unction 
with which they prayed for the king in their own house 
with open windows, in summer. 

In fact, even now Episcopalianism was considered 
rather foreign than of a home growth. But there had 
been such a divergence from the old-time faiths that 
people's prejudices were much softened. 

It seemed quite natural again to Doris, and she had 
no difficulty in finding her places, though Gary offered 
her his prayer book every time. And it sounded so 
hearty to say " Amen " to the prayers, to respond to the 
commandments, and sing some of the old chants. 

There was a short service in the afternoon, and in the 
evening she and Cary sang hymns. They were getting 
to be very good friends. Then on Christmas morning 
they all went again. There was a little " box and fir," 
and a branch of hemlock in the corner, but the people of 



A LITTLE CHRISTMAS. 173 

that day would have been horrified at the greenery and 
the flowers met to hail the birth of Christ to-day. 

They paused in the vestibule to give each other a cor 
dial greeting, for the congregation was not very large. 

A fine-looking elderly lady shook hands with Mr. 
Adams and his son. 

" This is my little niece from abroad," announced the 
elder, " another of the Adams family. Her father was 
own nephew to Cousin Charles. Doris, this is Madam 
Royall." 

" Poor Charles. Yes, I remember him well. Our 
children spied out the little girl in the sleigh with you 
on Saturday, and made no end of guesses. Is it the child 
who attends Mrs. Webb's school? Dorcas Payne goes 
there this winter, and she has been teasing to have her 
name changed to Doris, which she admires beyond 
measure." 

" Yes," answered Doris timidly, as Madam Royall 
seemed addressing her. " I know Dorcas Payne." 

" Oh, Mr. Adams, I have just thought our children 
are going to have a little time to-night not anything as 
pretentious as a party, a sort of Christmas frolic. Will 
you not come around and bring Cary and the little girl? 
You shall have some Christmas cake and wine with us, 
Cary can take tea with Isabel and Alice, and the little 
girl can have a good romp. Please do not refuse." 

Cary flushed. Mr. Adams looked undecided. 

" No, you shall not hunt about for an excuse. Dorcas 
has talked so much about the little girl that we are all 
curious to see her. Shouldn't you like a frolic with 
other little girls, my dear? " 

Doris smiled with assenting eagerness. 

" We shall surely look for you. I shall tell them all 
that you are coming, and that I have captured little 
Doris Adams," 



174 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

" Very well," returned Mr. Adams. 

"At four, exactly. The children's supper is at five." 

Doris had tight hold of Uncle Winthrop's hand, and 
if she had not just come out of church she must have 
skipped for very gladness. For Dorcas Payne had 
talked about her cousins, the Royalls, and their charm 
ing grandmother, and the good times they had in their 
fine large house. 

Uncle Win looked her all over as she sat at the din 
ner table. She was a pretty child, with her hair gath 
ered up high and falling in a golden shower. Her frock 
was some gray woolen stuff, and he wondered vaguely if 
blue or red would have been better. He had seen little 
girls in red frocks; they looked so warm and comfortable 
in winter. Elizabeth Leverett would be shocked at the 
color, he knew. What made so many women afraid of 
it, and why did they cling to dismal grays and browns? 
He wished he knew a little more about girls. 

They had a splendid young goose for the Christmas 
dinner, vegetables and pickles and jellies. Cider was 
used largely then; no hearty dinner would have been the 
thing without it. Even the Leveretts used that, while 
they frowned on all other beverages. And then the thick 
mince pie with a crust that fairly melted before you could 
chew it! One needed something to sustain him 
through the long cold winter, and the large rooms where 
you shivered if you went out of the chimney corner. 

Doris stole a little while for her enchanting Primrose 
people, though Gary kept teasing by saying: "Has 
Moses gone to the Fair? Just wait until you see the 
sort of bargains he makes ! " 

Uncle Winthrop went out to Miss Recompense. 

" She looks very plain for a little well, I suppose it is 
a party, and I dare say there is another frock at the Lev 
eretts'. I think the first time I saw her she had on some- 



A LITTLE CHRISTMAS. 175 

thing very pretty silk, I believe it was. But there is no 
time to get it. Recompense, if you could find a ribbon 
or any suitable adornment to brighten her up. In that 
big bureau upstairs I wish you would look." 

Years ago the pretty things had been laid away. 
Recompense went over them every spring during house- 
cleaning time, to see that moths had not disturbed them. 
Thieves were never thought of. She always touched 
them with a delicate regard for the young wife she had 
never known. 

She put a shawl about her now and went upstairs, un 
locked the drawer of " trinkets," and peered into some of 
the boxes. Oh, here was a pretty bit of lace, simple 
enough for a child. White ribbons turned to cream, 
pale-blue grown paler with age, stiff brocaded ones, and 
down at the very bottom a rose color with just a simple 
silvery band crossing it at intervals. There was enough 
for a sash and a bow for the hair, and with the lace 
tucker it would be all right. 

" Doris," she called over the baluster. 

" Yes, ma'am," and Doris came tripping up, book in 
hand. 

" Your uncle wants you fixed up a bit," she said, " and 
as you have nothing here I have looked up a few things. 
Let me fasten the tucker in your frock. There, that does 
look better. Madam Royall is quite dressy, like all fash 
ionable people who go out and have company. I'm not 
much of a hand to fix up children, seeing that for years 
I have had none of it to do. But I guess I can manage 
to tie the sash. There, I think that will do." 

"Oh, how lovely! How good of you, Miss Recom 
pense." 

Recompense Gardiner hated to take the credit for 
anything she had not done, but she had to let it go 
now. 



176 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

" How to get this ribbon in your hair ! I think it is 
too wide." 

" Oh, can I have that too? Well, you see, you take 
up the curls this way and put the ribbon under. Can it 
be folded? Then you tie it on the top." 

Miss Recompense did not make a very artistic bow, 
but Doris looked in the glass of the dressing table, and 
pulled and patted it a little, and said it was right and that 
she was a thousand times grateful. 

The sober-minded woman admitted within herself that 
the child was greatly improved. Perhaps gay attire did 
foster vanity, yet it was pleasant for others to look upon. 

" Run down and ask your uncle if you will do," ex 
claimed Miss Recompense, feeling that by his approval 
she would discharge her conscience from the sin, if sin 
it were. 

She looked so dainty as she came and stood by him, 
and asked her question with such a bewitching flush, 
that he kissed her on the forehead for approval. But 
she put her soft young arms about his neck and kissed 
him back, and he held her there with a strange new 
warmth stirring his heart. 

The old Royall house in Summer Street went its way 
three-quarters of a century ago. No one dreams now of 
the beautiful garden that surrounded it, and the blossom 
ing shrubbery and beds of flowers from which nosegays 
were sent to friends, and the fruit distributed later on. 
It was an old house then, a great square, two-story build 
ing with a cupola railed around a flat place at the point 
of the roof, or what would have been the point if carried 
up. There were some rooms built out at the back, and 
an arbor a covered sort of allee where the ladies sat and 
sewed at times and the children played. Thirty years 
before there had been many a meeting of friends to dis 
cuss the state of affairs. There had been disagreement^ 



A LITTLE CHRISTMAS. 177 

ruptures, quarrels made and healed. George Royall had 
gone back to England. Dwight Royall had fought on 
the side of the " Rebels." One daughter had married an 
English officer who had surrendered with Cornwallis 
and then returned to his native land. A younger son 
had married and died, and left two daughters to his 
mother's care, their own mother being dead. A 
widowed daughter had come home to live with her four 
children, the two youngest being girls. Dorcas Payne 
was a cousin to them on their father's side. 

There were often guests staying with them, and the old 
house was still the scene of good times, as they were then: 
friends dropping in and finding ready hospitality. For 
though Madam Royall had passed the three score and 
ten, she was still intelligent and had been in her earlier 
years accomplished. She could play on her old- 
fashioned spinet for the children to dance, and sometimes 
she sang the songs of her youth, though her voice had 
grown a trifle unsteady in singing. 

The sun was setting the west in a glow of magnificence 
as they walked up to the Royall house. Madam Royall 
and her daughter Mrs. Chapman were waiting to wel 
come them. 

In this hall was the tall stove that was beginning to do 
duty for the cheerful hearthfire, and it diffused a delight 
ful atmosphere of warmth. But you could see the blaze 
in the parlor and the dining room, where some friends 
were already assembled and having a game of cards. 
The sideboard, as was the custom then, was set out with 
a decanter of Madeira and one of sherry and the glasses, 
besides a great silver basin filled with nuts and dried fruit 
and another dish of crullers. 

On the opposite side of the hall there was a hubbub 
of children's voices. Madam Royall ushered Mr. Adams 
into the dining room, left Gary to the attention of the 



178 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

two girls and their aunt, and took possession of Doris 
herself, removing her wraps and handing them to the 
maid. Then taking her hand she drew her into the room, 
kept mostly for dancing and party purposes. 



CHAPTER XII. 

A CHILDREN'S PARTY. 

'"PHIS is Doris Adams, a little girl who came from 
* England not long ago. You must make her wel 
come and show her what delightful children there are in 
Boston. These two girls are Helen and Eudora Chap 
man, my grandchildren, and the others are grandnieces 
and friends. Helen, you must do the honors." 

Dorcas Payne came forward. " She goes to the same 
school that I do." She had been entertaining the girls 
with nearly all she knew about Doris. That Mr. Win- 
throp Adams was her uncle and guardian raised her a 
good deal in the estimation of Dorcas, for even then a 
man was thought unusually well off to be able to live 
without doing any real business. 

"Would you like to play graces? " asked Eudora. 

" I don't know," admitted Doris. 

"We were playing. Grace and Molly, you go down 
that end of the room. Now, this is the way. When 
Betty tosses it you catch it on the sticks, so." 

It seemed very easy when Eudora caught it and tossed 
it back, and Betty threw it again. 

" Now you try," and she put the sticks in Doris' hands. 
" Oh, what tiny little hands you have, and as white as 
snow! " 

Doris blushed. She threw the hoop and it "wabbled," 
but Betty, a bright, black-eyed girl, made a lunge or two, 



A CHILDREN'S PARTY. 179 

and caught it on the tip of one stick, and back it 
came. Doris was looking at her and never moved her 
hand. 

" Pick it up and try again," said Eudora. " That isn't 
the right way, but we will excuse you this time." 

Alas! this time Doris ran and brandished her stick 
in the air to no purpose. 

" I would rather see you play," she said. " You are 
all doing it so beautifully." 

" Then you stand here and watch." 

It was very fascinating. There were three sets play 
ing. Doris found that when a girl missed she gave up 
to some other companion. Her eyes could hardly move 
quickly enough to watch all the hoops. Now and then a 
girl was crowned, that meant the hoops encircled her 
head, and they all shouted. 

Then Helen said they had played that long enough, 
and now they would try " Hunt the slipper." The slip 
per was a pretty one, made of pink plush with a dainty 
heel and a shining buckle set in a small pink bow. 
Doris said " it looked like a Cinderella slipper." 

" Oh, do you know about Cinderella? Do you know 
many stories? " 

" Not a great many. Little Red Riding Hood and 
Beauty and the Beast, and a few in verses." 

" I wish you knew something quite new. Oh ! " 
Eudora had forgotten to keep the slipper going. The 
girls were sitting in a ring, so she jumped up cheerfully 
and began to hunt. There were a great many little 
giggles and exclamations, and then someone said: " Oh, 
let's stop playing and tell riddles ! " 

That was a never-failing amusement. There were 
some very bright ones, some very puzzling ones. One 
girl asked how many baskets of dirt there were in Copp's 
Hill. 



i8o A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

" Why, there can't anybody tell," said Helen. " You 
couldn't measure it that way." 

Everybody looked at everybody else, and the glances 
finally grew indignant. 

" There isn't any answer." 

"Give it up?" ' 

" Yes," cried the voices in unison. 

" Why, one if the basket is big enough." 

" There couldn't be a basket made as large as that. 
You might as well ask how many drops of water there 
are in the sea, and then say only one because they all 
run together." 

The girls applauded that, and, before anyone had 
thought of another, Miranda, tall, black, imposing, with 
a gay turban wound round her head, announced: 

" De little misses were all disquested to walk out to de 
Christmas supper." 

Grandmamma did not know how to leave her guests, 
and she was in the middle of a game of loo, but she had 
promised to sit at the head of the table, so Mrs. Chap 
man took her place. No one felt troubled because there 
were no boys at the party : the only boy of the house had 
gone out skating with some other boys. 

It was quite a royal feast. There were thin bread and 
butter, dainty biscuits not much larger than the penny 
of that day, cold turkey and cold ham, and cake of every 
kind, it would seem, ranged around the iced Christmas 
cake that was surmounted by a wreath of some odd 
golden flowers that people dried and kept all winter for 
ornamental purposes. 

They puzzled grandmamma with the two riddles, but 
she thought that about the sea the better one. And she 
said no one would ever have an opportunity to meas 
ure Copp's Hill, but for all that they did, if they had 
cared to. 



A CHILDREN'S PARTY. 181 

The grown-up people had some tea and chocolate in 
the dining room, and seemed to be having as merry a 
time as the children. There was something infectious 
in the air or the house. Doris thought it very delight 
ful. Her cheeks began to bloom in a wild-rose tint, and 
her eyes had a luminous look, as if happiness was shin 
ing through them. 

Afterward grandmamma played on the spinet and they 
danced several pretty simple figures, ending with the 
minuet. When the clock struck seven someone came 
in a sleigh for four of the girls who lived quite near to 
gether. Pompey, the Royalls' servant, was to escort the 
others, and Betty March lived just across in Winter 
Street. When children went out the hours were kept 
pretty strictly. Seven o'clock meant seven truly, and 
not eight or nine. 

Each child had a pretty paper box of candy, tied with 
a bright ribbon. Bonbons we should call them now. 
And they all expressed their thanks and made a courtesy 
as they reached the hall door. 

" Have you had a good time? " asked Madam Royall, 
taking Doris by the hand. 

" It's been just delightful, every moment," the child 
answered. 

" And she's only looked on, grandmamma," ex 
claimed Eudora. " Now, let's us get real acquainted. 
We will go in the parlor and have a good talk." 

" Very well," returned grandmamma. " I'll go and 
see what the old people are about." 

" I am glad you don't have to go home so soon," be 
gan Helen. " Why don't you live with your Uncle 
Adams instead of in Sudbury Street? Are there any 
girls there? " 

" One real big one who is sixteen. She has gone to 
Hartford now. That's Bettv Leverett. And I went 



i8z A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

there first, because well, Uncle Leverett came for me 
when the vessel reached Boston." 

" Oh, he is your uncle, too! Did you come from an 
other Boston, truly now? " 

" Yes, it was Boston." 

"And like this?" 

" Oh, no." 

" Did you know ever so many girls? " 

" No. We lived quite out of the town." 

"And, oh, were you not afraid to cross the ocean? 
Suppose there had been a pirate or something? " 

" I didn't know anything about pirates," said Doris. 
" But I was afraid at first, when you could not see 
any land for days and days. There were two little 
girls and they had a doll. We played together and 
grew used to the water. But it was worse when it 
stormed." 

" I should have been frightened out of my life. Grand 
mamma has been to England. We have some cousins 
there, but they are grown-up people and married. 
Which place do you like best? " 

" I had no real relatives there after papa died. Oh, 
I like this Boston best." 

Then they branched off into school matters. Eudora 
and her sister went to a Miss Parker, and to a writing 
school an hour in the afternoon. Eudora wished she was 
grown-up like Isabel and Alice, and could go out to real 
parties and have a silk frock. Grandmamma was going 
to give her one when she was fifteen. 

A feeling of delicacy kept Doris from confessing that 
she owned the coveted article. Some of the girls had 
worn very pretty frocks. Eudora's was a beautiful soft 
blue, and had bands of black velvet and short sleeves with 
lace around them. But Doris had forgotten about her 
own attire, though she recalled the fact that there was 



A CHILDREN'S PARTY. 183 

only one little girl in a gray frock, and it didn't seem very 
pretty. 

So they chattered on, and Eudora said they would have 
splendid times if she came in the summer. They had a 
big swing, and they went over on the Common and had 
no end of fun playing tag. The warm weather was the 
nicest, though there was great fun sledding and snow 
balling when the boys were not too rough. Oh, had she 
seen the forts and the great light out at Fort Hill? 
Wasn't it just grand? 

" But, you know, Walter said if the redoubts had been 
stone instead of snow, the Rebels never could have 
taken them. You know, they called us Rebels then. 
And now we are a nation." 

Doris wondered what a redoubt was, but she saved it 
to ask Uncle Win. She gave a sigh to think what an 
ignorant little girl she was. 

" I think it is a great deal finer to be a country all by 
yourself and govern your own people. The King of 
England is half crazy, you know. You don't mind, do 
you, when we talk about the English? We don't really 
mean every person, and our friends and and all " 
getting rather confused with distinctions. 

" We mean the government," interposed Helen. " It 
stands to reason people thousands of miles away 
wouldn't know what is best for us. Wouldn't it be 
ridiculous if someone in Virginia should pretend to in 
struct grandmamma what to do? Grandmamma knows 
so much. And she is one of the handsomest old ladies 
in Boston. Oh, listen!" 

A mysterious sound came from the kitchen. A fiddle 
was surely tuning up somewhere. 

" The big folks are going to dance, and that is black 
Joe, Mr. Winslow's man." 

Mr. Winslow and a young lady had arrived also. 



184 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

They tendered many apologies about their late 
ness. 

The people in the dining room left the table and came 
out in the hall. Gary Adams had been having a very 
nice time, for a young fellow. Isabel poured the choco 
late, and on her right sat a Harvard senior. Alice 
poured the tea, and beside her sat Gary, who made him 
self useful handing it about. He liked Alice very much. 
A young married couple were over on the other side, and 
now this addition and the fiddle looked suspicious. 

" My dear Doris," exclaimed her uncle. He had been 
discussing Greek poets with the Harvard professor, and 
had really forgotten about her. " Are you tired? It's 
about time a young person like you, and an old person 
like me, went home." 

He didn't look a bit old. There was a tint of pink in 
his cheeks he had been so roused and warmed with his 
argument and his tea. 

" Oh, do let Doris stay and see them dance, just one 
dance," pleaded Eudora. " We have been sitting here 
talking, and haven't tired ourselves out a bit." 

The fiddler and the dancers went to the room where 
the children had their frolic. That was Jane Morse's 
cousin Winslow. How odd she should see him and 
hear black Joe, who fiddled like the blind piper. The 
children kept time with their feet. 

The minuet was elegant. Then they had a cotillion 
in which there was a great deal of bowing. After that 
Mr. Adams said they must go home, and Madam Royall 
came and talked to Doris in a charming fashion, and 
then told Susan, the slim colored maid, to wrap her up 
head and ears, and in spite of Mr. Adams' protest Pom- 
pey came round with the sleigh. 

" I hope you had a nice time," said Madam Royall, 
as she put a Christmas box in the little girl's hand. 



A CHILDREN'S PARTY. 185 

" I'm just full of joy," she answered with shining eyes. 
" I couldn't hold any more unless I grew," laughingly. 

They made her promise to come again, and the chil 
dren kissed her good-by. Then they were whisked off 
and set down at their own door in no time. 

" Now you must run to bed. Aunt Elizabeth would 
be horrified at your staying up so late." 

Miss Recompense was almost. She had been nod 
ding over the fire. 

They went upstairs together. She took a look at 
Doris, and suddenly the child clasped her round the 
waist. 

" Oh, dear Miss Recompense, I was so glad about the 
beautiful sash. Most of the frocks were prettier than 
mine. Some had tiny ruffles round the bottom and the 
sleeves. But the party was so nice I forgot all about 
that. Oh, Miss Recompense, were you ever brimful of 
happiness, and you wanted to sing for pure gladness? I 
think that is the way the birds must feel." 

No, Miss Recompense had never been that happy. A 
great joy, the delight of childhood, had been lost out of 
her life.' She had been trained to believe that for every 
miserable day you spent bewailing your sins, a day in 
heaven would be intensified, and that happiness on earth 
was a snare of the Evil One to lead astray. She had 
gone out in the fields and bemoaned herself, and won 
dered how the birds could sing when they had to die so 
soon, and how anyone could laugh when he had to an 
swer for everything at the Day of Judgment. 

" Everybody was so delightful, though at first I felt 
strange. And I did not make out at all playing graces. 
That's just beautiful, and I'd like to know how. And 
now if you will untie the sash and put it away, and I ana 
a hundred times obliged to you." 

Some of the children she had known would have 



186 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

begged for the sash. Doris' frank return touched her. 
Mr. Adams no doubt meant her to keep it she would 
ask him. 

And then the happy little girl went to bed, while even 
in the dark the room seemed full of exquisite visions and 
voices that charmed her. 

Gary had to go away the next morning. Uncle Win 
said he couldn't spare her, and sent Cato over to tell Mrs. 
Leverett. A young man came in for some instruction, 
and Doris followed the fate of the Vicar's household 
a while, until she felt she ought to study, since there were 
so many things she did not know. 

Uncle Win found her in the chimney corner with a 
pile of books. 

" What is it now? " he asked. 

" I think I know all my spelling. But I can't get 
some of the addition tables right when I ask myself ques 
tions. I wish there had not been any nine." 

" The world couldn't get along without the nine. It 
is very necessary." 

" Most of the good things are hard," she said with a 
philosophic sigh. 

He laughed. 

" Eudora does not like tables either." 

" I will tell you a famous thing about nine that you 
can't do with any other figure. How much is ten and 
ten?" 

" Why, twenty, and ten more are thirty, and so on. 
It is easy as turning over your hand." 

" Ten and nine." 

Doris looked nonplused and began to draw her brow 
in perplexed lines. 

" Nine is only one less than ten. Now, if you can re 
member that " 

" Nineteen! Why, that is splendid." 



A CHILDREN'S PARTY. 187 

" Now sixteen and nine? " 

"Twenty-five," rather hesitatingly. 

He nodded. " And nine more." 

"Thirty-four. Oh, we made a rhyme. Uncle Win- 
throp, is it very hard to write verses? They are so 
beautiful." 

" I think it is rather," with his half-smile. 

People had not had the leisure to be very poetical as 
yet. But through these years some children were being 
born into the world whose verses were to find a place by 
every fireside before the little girl said her last good 
night to it. So far there had been some bright witticisms 
and sarcasms in rhyme, and the clergy had penned verses 
for wedding and funeral occasions. The Rev. John Cot 
ton had indulged in flowing versification, and even Gov 
ernor Bradford had interspersed his severer cares with 
visions of softer strains. Anne Dudley, the wife of 
Governor Bradstreet, with her eight children, had found 
time for study and writing, and about 1650 had a volume 
of verse published in London entitled " The Tenth Muse. 
Several poems compiled with a great variety of wit and 
learning. By an American Gentlewoman." And she 
makes this protest even then: 

I am obnoxious to each carping tongue, 
Who says my hand a needle better fits; 

A poet's pen all scorn I thus should wrong, 
For such despite they cast on female wits: 

If what I do prove well it won't advance, 

They'll say it's stolen, or else it was by chance. 

There was also a Mrs. Murray and a Mercy Otis War 
ren, who evinced very fine intellectual ability; and Mrs. 
Adams had written letters that the world a hundred years 
later was to admire and esteem. 

On the parlor table in some houses you found a 



i88 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

thin volume of poems with a romantic history. A Mrs. 
Wheatley bought a little girl at the slave market one 
day, mostly out of pity. She learned to read very 
rapidly, and was so modest and thoughtful that as a 
young woman she was held in high esteem by Dr. 
Sewall's flock at the Old South Church. She went 
abroad with her master's son before the breaking out of 
the war, and interested Londoners so much that her 
poems were published and she was the recipient of a 
good many attentions. Afterward they were reissued in 
Boston and met with warm commendations for the no 
bility of sentiment and smooth versification. So to 
Phillis Wheately belongs the honor of having been one 
of the first female poets in Boston. 

And young men even now celebrated their sweethearts' 
charms in rhyme. Gay gallants wrote their own valen 
tines. Young collegians struggled with Latin verse, 
and sometimes scaled the heights of Thessaly from 
whence inspiration sprang. But, for the most part, the 
temperaments that inclined to the worship of the Muses 
sought solace in Chaucer, Shakspere, and Milton while 
the later ones were winning their way. 

Doris sighed over the doubtfulness in her uncle's tone. 
But it was music rather than poetry that floated through 
her brain. 

" You might come and read a little Latin, and then we 
will have a talk in French. We will leave the prosaic 
part. What you will do in square root and cube 
root " 

" I am afraid I shall not grow at all. I'll just wither 
up. Isn't there some round root? " 

" Yes, among vegetables." 

They both laughed at that. 

She did quite well in the Latin. Then she spelled 
some rather difficult words, and being in the high tide of 



A CHILDREN'S PARTY. 189 

French when dinner was announced, they kept on talk 
ing, to the great amusement of Miss Recompense, who 
could hardly convince herself that it really did mean any 
thing reasonable. 

Uncle Winthrop said then they certainly deserved 
some indulgence, and if she was not afraid of blowing 
away they would go out riding again. They took the 
small sleigh and he drove, and they turned down toward 
the stem end of the pear, and if Boston had not held on 
good and strong in those early years it might in some 
high wind have been twisted off and left an island. 

It does not look, to-day, much as it did when Doris 
first saw it. Charles River has shrunken, Back Bay has 
been filled up. It has stretched out everywhere and 
made itself a marvelous city. The Common has changed 
as well, and is more beautiful than one could have imag 
ined then, but a thousand old recollections cling to it. 

They left the streets behind. Sleigh riding was the 
great winter amusement then, but you had to take it in 
cold weather, for the salt air all about softened the snow 
the first mild day. There was no factory smoke or dust 
to mar it, and it lay in great unbroken sheets. There 
were people skating on Back Bay, and chairs on runners 
with ladies well wrapped up in furs, and sleds of every 
description. 

They came up around the other side and saw the 
wharves and the idle shipping and the white-capped 
islands in the harbor. Now the wind did nearly blow 
you away. 

The next day was very lowering and chilly. Uncle 
Winthrop had to go to a dinner among some notables. 
Miss Recompense always brushed his hair and tied the 
queue. Young men did not wear them, but some of 
the older people thought leaving them off was aping 
youthfulness. He put on his black velvet smallclothes, 



190 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

his silk stockings and low shoes with silver buckles, his 
flowered waistcoat, his high stock and fine French broad 
cloth coat. His shirt front had two full ruffles beauti 
fully crimped. Miss Recompense did it with a penknife. 

" You look just like a picture, Uncle Winthrop," Doris 
exclaimed admiringly. " Party clothes do make one 
handsomer. I suppose it isn't good for one to be hand 
some all the time." 

" We should grow too vain," he answered smilingly, 
yet he did enjoy the honest praise. 

" Perhaps if we were used to it all the time it would 
not seem so beautiful. It would get to be everyday-like, 
and you would not think about it." 

True enough. He had a fancy Madam Royall did not 
think half so much about her apparel as some of the 
more strenuous people who referred continually to con 
science. 

" Good-by. Maybe you will be in bed when I come 
back." 

" Oh, will you be gone that late? " She stood upon 
a stool and reached over to give him a parting kiss, if 
she could not see him until to-morrow, and she did not 
even touch his immaculate ruffles. 

It was growing dusky, and Miss Recompense was in 
and out, and was in no hurry for candlelight herself. 
Doris sat in a kind of chaotic thinking. Someone came 
up the steps, stamped his feet quite too noisily for Cato, 
even if he had returned so soon, knocked at the door, 
and then opened it. 

" Oh, Uncle Leverett! " and she sprang up. 

"Well, well, little runaway! I was quite struck when 
mother told me you were going to stay all the week. I 
wanted to see my little girl. It's lonesome without you 
and Betty, I can tell you lonesome as the woods in 
winter; and as I couldn't get to see her, I thought 



A CHILDREN'S PARTY. 191 

I would run around this way and see you. The longest 
way round is the surest way home, I have heard " with 
a twinkle in his eye. " Where's Uncle Win? What are 
you doing in the dark alone? " 

" Uncle Win has gone to a grand dinner at the Ex 
change something. And he dressed all up. He looked 
splendid." 

" I dare say. He isn't bad-looking in his everyday 
gear. And you are having a good time? " 

" A most beautiful time, Uncle Leverett. I went to 
church Christmas morning. And a lady asked us both 
to a party yes, it was a party. The grown people were 
by themselves, and the children there were ten little 
girls they had a grand supper and played games and 
told riddles, and we talked " 

" Where was this fine affair? " 

" At Madam Royall's. And she was so kind and sweet 
and handsome." 

" Well, I declare ! Right in amongst the quality ! I 
don't know what mother would say to a party. What a 
pity you didn't have that pretty frock ! " 

" I did wish for it at first, but we had such a nice time 
it made no difference. And then some more people 
came and Mr. Winslow and Black Joe, who was at 
Betty's party, and they danced. Gary went, too. He 
stayed after Uncle Win and I came home." 

" Great doings. I am glad you are happy. But I 
shall be doubly glad to get you back. And now I must 
run off home." 

Miss Recompense came in and lighted the candles. 
They were going to have supper in five minutes and he 
must take off his coat and stay. 

" I've sort of run away, and no one would know where 
I am. Wife would keep supper waiting. No, I must 
hustle back, thanking you for the asking. I wanted to 



192 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

see Doris. Somehow we have grown so used to her 
already that the house seems kind of lost without her, 
Betty being away. We haven't had any letter from 
Hartford, but I dare say she is there all safe." 

" Post teams do get delayed. Doris is well and satis 
fied. She and her uncle have great times studying." 

" That is good. Wife worried a little about school. 
Now I must go. Good-night. You will surely be home 
on Saturday." 

" Good-night," returned the soft voice. 

Somehow the supper was very quiet. Doris had be 
gun to read aloud to Miss Recompense " The Story of 
Rasselas, Prince of Abyssinia." She did not like it as 
well as her dear Vicar, but Uncle Win said it was good. 
He was not quite sure of the Vicar for such a child. So 
she read along very well for a while, and then she 
yawned. 

" You were up late last night and you must go to bed," 
said the elder lady. 

Doris was ready. She was sleepy, but somehow she 
did not drop asleep all in a minute. There was a grave 
subject to consider. All day she was thinking how 
splendid it would be if Uncle Win should ask her to 
come here and live. She liked him. She liked the 
books and the curiosities and the talks and the teaching. 
Uncle Win was so much more interesting than Mrs. 
W'ebb, who flung questions at you in a way that made 
you jump if you were not paying strict attention. There 
were other delights that she could not explain to herself. 
And the books, the leisure to sit and think. For careful 
Aunt Elizabeth said " Have you hung up your cloak, 
Doris? Are you sure you know your spelling? I do 
wonder if you will ever get those tables perfect! The 
idea of such a big girl not knowing how to knit a stock 
ing! Don't sit there looking into the fire and dreaming, 



A CHILDREN'S PARTY. 193 

Doris; attend to your book. Jimmie boy is away ahead 
of you in some things." 

And here she could sit and dream. Of course she was 
not going to school. Miss Recompense did not think of 
something all the time. She had learned a sort of gra- 
ciousness since she had lived with Mr. Winthrop Adams. 
True, she had nothing to worry about no children to 
advance in life, no husband whose business she must be 
anxiously considering. She had a snug little sum of 
money, and was adding to it all the time, and she was 
still a long way from old age. Doris could not have 
understood the difference in both position and demands, 
but she enjoyed the atmosphere of ease. And there was 
a certain aspect of luxury, a freedom from the grinding 
exactions of conscience that had been trained to keep 
continually on the alert lest one " fall into temptation." 

" He had wanted to see his little girl. He was lone 
some without her." 

She could see the longing in Uncle Leverett's face and 
hear his wistful voice there in the dark. He had come 
to the ship and given her the first greeting and brought 
her home. Yes, she supposed she was his little girl. 
Guardians were to take care of one's money ; you did not 
have to live with them, of course. Uncle Leverett was 
something in a business way, too ; and he loved her. She 
knew that without any explanation. She was quite sure 
Uncle Win loved her also, but her real place was in Sud- 
bury Street. 

Friday afternoon she was curled up by the fire read 
ing, looking like a big kitten, if you had seen only her 
gray frock. Uncle Win had glanced at her every now 
and then. He did not mind having her around not as 
much, in fact, as Gary, who tumbled books about and 
moved chairs noisily and kept one's nerves astir all the 
time, as a big healthy fellow whose body has grown so 



194 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

fast that he hardly knows what to do with his long arms 
and legs is apt to do. 

Doris was like a little mouse. She never rattled the 
leaves when she turned them over, she never put books in 
the cases upside down, she did not ringer papers or any 
thing that lay on the table when she stood by it. He had 
a fancy that all children were meddlesome and curious 
and given to asking queer questions: these were the 
things he remembered about Gary in those first years of 
sorrow when he could hardly bear him out of his 
sight. 

Instead, Doris was restful with her quaint ways. She 
did not run against chairs nor move a stool so> that the 
legs emitted a " screak " of agony, and she could sit still 
for an hour at a time if she had a book. Of course, being 
a girl she ought to sew instead. 

It was getting quite dusky. Uncle Winthrop came 
and stirred the fire and put on a pine log, then drew up 
his chair. 

" Put away your book, Doris. You will try your 
eyes." 

She shut it up and came and stood by him. He 
passed his arm around her. 

" Uncle Win, there was a time when people had to read 
and sew by the blaze of logs and torches. There were 
no candles." 

" They did it not so many years ago here. I dare say 
they are still doing it out in country places. They go to 
bed early." 

" What seems queer to me is that people are continu 
ally finding out things. They must at one time have 
been very ignorant. No, they could not have been 
either," reflectively. " For just think how Adam named 
the animals. And Miss Arabella said that Job knew all 
about the stars and called them by their names. But 



A CHILDREN'S PARTY. 195 

perhaps it was the little things like candles and such. 
Yet they had lamps ever and ever so long ago." 

" People seem to advance and then fall back. They 
emigrate and cannot take all their appliances with them, 
and they make simpler things to use until they have 
leisure and begin to accumulate wealth. You see, they 
could not bring a great deal from England or Holland 
in the vessels they had in early sixteen hundred. So they 
had to begin at the foundation in many things." 

" It is all so wonderful when you really come to learn 
about it," she said with a gentle sigh. 

The blaze was shining on her now, and bringing out 
the puzzles on the fair child's face. She was very intel 
ligent, if she was slow at figures. 

" Doris," after a long pause, " how would you like 
to live here? " 

" Oh, Uncle Win, it would be the most splendid 
thing " 

" I fancied you might like to change. And there are 
some matters connected with your education why, what 
is it, Doris?" 

She raised her eyes an instant, then they drooped and 
he saw the dark fringe beaded with tears. She took a 
long quivering inspiration. 

" Uncle Win I don't believe I can." The words 
came very slowly. " You see Betty is away, and Uncle 
Leverett missed me very much. He said the other night 
I was his little girl, and he was lonesome " 

" I shall be lonesome when you are gone." 

" But you have so many books and things, and people 
coming, and I should like to stay. Oh, I do like you 
so." She put her slim arm around his neck and laid her 
cheek against his. " Sometimes it seems as if you were 
like what I remember of papa. I only saw such a little 
of him, you know, after I went to England. But Aunt 



196 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

Elizabeth says it is the hard things that are right always. 
She would have Jimmie boy, you know, if I stayed, but 
Uncle Leverett wants me. I can just feel how it is, but 
I don't know how to explain it. He has always been so 
good to me. And that day on the ship he said, ' Is this 
my little girl? 'and I was so glad to really belong to 
someone again " 

She was crying softly. He felt the tears on his cheek. 
Her simple heroism touched him. 

" Yes, dear," he said with a comforting sound in his 
voice. " Perhaps it would be best to wait a little, until 
Betty returns, or in the summer. You can come over 
Friday night and spend Sunday, and brush up on Latin, 
and brush me up on French, and we will have a nice 
visit." 

" Oh, thank you, thank you. Uncle Win if I could 
be two little girls " 

" I want you all, complete. We will keep it to think 
about." 

Then Miss Recompense said supper was ready, and 
Doris wiped the tears out of her eyes and smiled. But 
the pressure of her hand as they walked out confessed 
that she belonged to him. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

VARIOUS OPINIONS OF LITTLE GIRLS. 

! Vf OU have kept up wonderfully for being absent a 
whole week. You haven't fallen back a bit," said 
Mrs. Webb. 

Doris flushed with delight. The little training Uncle 
Winthrop had given her had borne fruit. 

But she was shocked that Jimmie boy was so bad he 
had to be punished with the ruler. He had been pun 
ished twice in the week before. 



VARIOUS OPINIONS OF LITTLE GIRLS. 197 

" Don't you darst to tell grandmother," he said as 
they were turning into Sudbury Street. " If you do 
I'll I'll " she was a girl, and he coudn't punch her 
" I won't take you on my sled." 

"No. I won't tell." ' 

" Honest and true? Hope to die? " 

" I'll say honest and true." 

" A little thing like that aint much, just two or three 
slaps. You ought to see the teacher at Salem? My 
brother Foster gets licked sometimes, and he makes us 
promise not to tell father." 

James had stood a little in awe of Doris on the point of 
good behavior. But Sam had been up, and James had 
gone down to Aunt Martha's, and he felt a great deal 
bigger now. 

Uncle Leverett was very glad to get his little girl back. 
They had heard from Betty, who had spent two delight 
ful days with Mrs. Eastman, and then they had gone to 
Hartford together. Electa and the children were well, 
and she had a beautiful house with a Brussels carpet in 
the parlor and velvet furniture and vases and a table 
with a marble top. Betty sent love to everybody, and 
they were to tell Aunt Priscilla that the beaver bonnet 
was just the thing, and she was going to have the silk 
frock made over right away. Electa thought the India 
silk lovely, and she was so glad she had brought the 
extra piece along, for she was going to have the little 
cape with long tabs to tie behind, and she should use up 
every scrap putting a frill on it. 

Aunt Priscilla had not waited until March, but taken 
another cold and was confined to the house, so Aunt 
Elizabeth went over quite often. Martha Grant proved 
very efficient, and she was industry itself. She, too, 
was amazed that Doris wasn't " put to something 
useful." 



198 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

Doris had brought home a Latin book, but Aunt 
Elizabeth could not cordially indorse such a boyish 
study. Women were never meant to go to colleges. 
But she did not feel free to thwart Cousin Adams' plans 
for her. 

He came over on Saturday and took her out, and they 
had a nice laughing French talk, though he admitted he 
and Miss Recompense had missed her very much. She 
told him about Betty, and what Mrs. Webb had said, and 
seemed quite happy. 

Just at the last of the month they were all very much 
interested in a grand affair to which Uncle Winthrop 
was an invited guest. It was at the great Exchange 
Coffee House, and really in honor of the gallant struggle 
Spain had been making against the man who bid fair 
then to be the dictator of all Europe. On one throne 
after another he had placed the different members of his 
family. Joseph Bonaparte, who had been King of 
Naples, was summarily transferred to the throne of 
Spain, with small regard for the desires of her people. 
He found himself quite unable to cope with the insur 
gents rising on every hand. And America sent Spain 
her warmest sympathy. 

Uncle Leverett read the account aloud from his 
weekly paper. Now and then there appeared a daily 
paper for a brief while, and a tolerably successful semi- 
weekly, but the real substantial paper was the weekly. 
How they would have found time then to read a 
morning and an evening paper two or three, perhaps 
is beyond comprehension. And to have heard news 
from every quarter of the globe before it was more than 
a few hours old would have seemed witchcraft. 

Napoleon was now at the zenith of his fame. But the 
feeling of the country at his divorcing Josephine, who 
loved him deeply, was a thrill of indignation, for the 



VARIOUS OPINIONS OF LITTLE GIRLS. 199 

tie of marriage was now considered irrevocable save for 
the gravest cause. That he should marry an Austrian 
princess for the sake of allying himself to a royal house 
and having an heir to the throne, which was nearly half 
of Europe now, was causing people even then to draw a 
parallel between him and our own hero, Washington. 
Both had started with an endeavor to free their respective 
countries from an intolerable yoke, and when this was 
achieved Washington had grandly and calmly laid down 
the burdens of state and retired to private life, while Na 
poleon was still bent upon conquest. The sympathies 
of America went out to all struggling nations. 

There had been an ode read, and toasts and songs; 
indeed, it had called together the notable men of the city, 
who had partaken of a grand feast. It was much talked 
of for weeks ; and Doris questioned Uncle Winthrop and 
began to be interested in matters pertaining to her new 
country. 

She was learning a good deal about the city. War 
ren took her to Aunt Priscilla's one noon, and came for 
her when they had " shut up shop." Aunt Priscilla did 
not mend rapidly. She called it being " pudgicky," as if 
there was no name of a real disease to give it. A little 
fresh cold, a good deal of weakness and she had always 
been so strong; some fever that would persist in coming 
back even when she had succeeded in breaking it up for 
a few days. The time hung heavily on her hands. She 
did miss Betty's freshness and bright, argumentative 
ways. So she was glad to see Doris, for Polly sat out in 
the kitchen half asleep most of the time. 

Solomon as well always seemed very glad to see Doris. 
He came and sat in her lap, and Aunt Priscilla told about 
the days when she was a little girl, more than fifty years 
ago. Doris thought life must have been very hard, and 
she was glad not to have lived then. 



200 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

She did like Miss Recompense the best, but she felt 
very sorry for Aunt Priscilla's loneliness. 

" She and Polly have grown old together, and they 
need some younger person to take care of them both," 
said Uncle Leverett. " She ought to take her comfort; 
she has money enough." 

" It is so difficult to find anyone to suit," and Aunt 
Elizabeth sighed. 

" I shall crawl out in the spring," declared Mrs. Per 
kins ; but her tone was rather despondent. 

Doris wondered when the spring would come. The 
snow and ice had never been entirely off the ground. 

Besides going to Uncle Winthrop's, and she went 
every other Saturday, she had been asked to Madam 
Royall's to tea with the children. The elder lady had 
not forgotten her. Indeed, this was one of the houses 
that Mr. Adams thoroughly enjoyed, though he was not 
much of a hand to visit. But people felt then that they 
really owed their neighbors some social duty. There 
were not so many public amusements. 

The Chapman children had real dolls, not simply rag 
babies; and the clothes were made so you could take 
them off. Doris was quite charmed with them. Helen's 
had blue eyes and Eudora's brown, but both were red- 
cheeked and had black hair, which was not really hair at 
all, but shaped of the composition and curled and painted 
over. 

They had a grand long slide in their garden at the 
back. The servant would flood it over now and then 
and make it smooth as glass. Doris found it quite an art 
to stand up. Helen could go the whole length beauti 
fully, and balance herself better than Eudora. But if 
you fell you generally tumbled over in the bank of snow 
and did not get hurt. 

Playing graces was a great delight to her and after 



VARIOUS OPINIONS OF LITTLE GIRLS. 201 

several trials she became quite expert. Then on one 
occasion Madam Royall found that she had a very sweet 
voice. 

" You are old enough to learn some pretty songs, my 
child," she said. " I must speak to your uncle. When 
the weather gets pleasanter he must place you in a sing 
ing class." 

Singing was quite a great accomplishment then. 
Very few people had pianos. But young ladies and 
young men would sometimes spend a whole evening in 
singing beautiful old songs. 

In March there was a new President, Mr. Madison. 
Everybody was hoping for a new policy and better 
times, yet now and then there were quite sharp talks 
of war. 

One day Mrs. Manning and the baby came in and 
made quite a visit. The baby was very sweet and good, 
with pretty dark eyes, and Mrs. Manning looked very 
much like Aunt Elizabeth. Mrs. Hollis Leverett came 
and spent the day, and young married women who had 
been Mary Leverett's friends came to tea. Warren went 
over in the old chaise and brought Aunt Priscilla. 
Everybody seemed personally aggrieved that Betty 
should stay away so long. 

But Betty was having a grand time. Her letters to 
her mother were very staid and respectful, but there were 
accounts of dinners and evening parties and two or three 
weddings. Her brother King had given her a pretty 
pink silk, and that was made pompadour waist and had a 
full double plait at the back that hung down to the floor 
in a train. He had taken her and Electa to a grand 
affair where there were crowds of beautifully attired 
ladies. Betty did not call it a ball, for she knew they 
would all be shocked. And though her mother had 
written for her to come home, Mrs. King had begged for 



202 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

a little longer visit, as there seemed to be something 
special all the time. 

" What extravagance for a young girl ! " exclaimed 
Mrs. Manning. "Pink silk indeed, and a train! Betty 
will be so flighty when she comes back there will be no 
getting along with her. 'Lecty has grown very worldly, 
I think. I have never found any occasion for a pink 
silk." 

Mrs. Leverett sighed. And Betty was not yet seven 
teen! 

Mrs. Manning took James home with her, for she said 
grandmother was spoiling him. She kept the children 
with a pretty strict hand at home, and they soon jumped 
over the traces when you gave them a little liberty. She 
was very glad to have him go to school all winter and 
hoped he had made some improvement. 

She was very brisk and energetic and was surprised to 
think they were letting Doris grow up into such a help 
less, know-nothing sort of girl. And her daughter of 
nine was like a steady little woman. 

" Still it isn't wise to put too much on her," said 
Mrs. Leverett in mild protest. " Where one cannot 
help it, why, you must; but I think life is getting 
a little easier, and children ought to have their share 
of it." 

" I'm not asking anything of her that I did not do," 
returned Mrs. Manning. " And I am proud of my 
training and my housekeeping." 

" But it was so different then. Your father and I be 
gan life with only a few hundred dollars. Then there 
was his three years in the war, and people were doing 
everything for themselves spinning and weaving and 
dyeing, and making clothes of every kind. To be sure 
I make soap and candles," laughing a little ; " but we 
have only one cow now and give half the milk for her 



VARIOUS OPINIONS OF LITTLE GIRLS. 203 

care. I really felt as if I ought not have Martha, but 
father insisted." 

" I don't see why Doris couldn't have done a good 
deal instead of poring over books so much." 

" Well you see she isn't really our own. Cousin 
Winthrop has some ideas about her education. She will 
have a little money, too, if everything turns out right." 

" It's just the way to spoil girls. And you will find, 
mother, that Betty will be none the better for her visit 
to 'Lecty. Dear me! I don't see how 'Lecty can answer 
to her conscience, spending money that way. We 
couldn't. It's wrong and sinful. And it's wrong to 
bring up any child in a helpless, do-little fashion." 

They were sitting by the south window sewing, and 
Doris was at the other side of the chimney studying. 
Now and then she could not help catching a sentence. 
She wondered what little Elizabeth Manning was like, 
who could cook a meal, work butter, tend babies, and 
sew and knit stockings. She only went to school in the 
winter; there was too much work to do in the summer. 
She was not left alone now; one of the Manning aunts 
had been staying some time. This aunt was a tailoress 
and had been fitting out Mr. Manning, and now James 
must go home to have some clothes made. 

Jimmie boy privately admitted to Doris that he 
would rather stay at grandmother's. She was a good deal 
easier on him than his mother, and he didn't mind Mrs. 
Webb a bit. " But you just ought to see Mr. Green. 
He does lick the boys like fury! And there's such lots 
of errands to do home. Mother never gives you a chunk 
of cake either. I don't see why they couldn't all have 
been grandmothers instead of mothers." 

James was not the first boy who had wished such a 
thing. But he knew he had to go home, and that was 
all there was about it. 



204 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

Martha wanted to go also. She had bought a good 
stout English cambric lively colored, as she called it 
and a nice woolen or stuff frock, as goods of that kind 
was often called. She was going to do up her last sum 
mer's white frock to be married in. They would have a 
wedding supper at her father's and then go home, and 
begin housekeeping the next morning. Mrs. Leverett 
added a tablecloth to her store. 

Betty must be sent for imperatively. Her mother was 
afraid she would be quite spoiled. And she could not 
help wishing that Mrs. King would be a little more care 
ful and not branch out so, and Mary take life a little 
easier, for Mr. Manning was putting by money and had 
his large farm clear. 

Then Aunt Priscilla was suddenly at sea. Jonas Field 
had bought a place of his own where he could live over 
the store. In spite of a changed name, King Street had 
dropped down and down, and was now largely given to 
taverns. The better class had kept moving out and a 
poorer class coming in, with colored people among them. 
No one had applied for the store, but a man who wanted 
to keep a tavern combined with a kind of sailor lodging 
house had made her a very good offer to buy the 
property. 

" I'm going to live my time out in this very house," 
declared Aunt Priscilla with some of her olden energy. 
" I came here when I was married and I'll stay to be 
buried. By the looks of things, it won't be a great many 
years. And I haven't made a sign of a will yet! Not 
that the Perkinses would get anything if I died in this 
state that aint the word, but it means the same thing, 
not having your will made, and I aint quite sure after all 
that would be right. I worked and saved, and I had 
some when we were married, but husband had farsight, 



VARIOUS OPINIONS OF LITTLE GIRLS. 205 

and knew how to turn it over. Some of his money ought 
to go back to his folks." 

This had been one of the decisions haunting Aunt Pris- 
cilla's conscience. Down at the bottom she had a strict 
sense of justice. 

" It is hardly nice to go there any more," said Aunt 
Elizabeth. " And I shall not enjoy a young girl like 
Betty running over there, if Aunt Priscilla shouldn't be 
very well, and she is breaking. Polly gets worse and 
really is not to be trusted." 

It was Polly after all who settled the matter, or the 
summons that came to Polly one night. For in the 
morning, quite late, after a good deal of calling and 
scolding, Aunt Priscilla found she had taken the last 
journey. It was a great shock. Jonas Field's errand 
boy was dispatched to the Leveretts'. 

The woman who came soon gave notice that she 
" couldn't stay in no such neighborhood for steady 
company." 

Mr. Leverett and Cousin Adams urged her to sell. If 
there should be war she might not have a chance in a 
long while again. 

" But I don't know the first thing in the world to do," 
she moaned. " I haven't a chick nor a child to care 
about me." 

" Come over and stop with us a bit until you can make 
some plans. There's two rooms upstairs in which you 
could housekeep if you wanted to. Our family gets 
smaller all the time. But if you liked to live with us a 
spell " said Mr. Leverett. 

" I don't know how 'Lizabeth could stand an old 
woman and a young one " hesitatingly. 

" If you mean Doris, she is going over to Win- 
throp's," he replied. 



206 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

" Ready to jump at the chance, I'll warrant. You 
can't count on children." 

" No, Aunt Priscilla, she didn't jump. She's a wise, 
fond little thing. Win asked her about Christmas, and 
she wouldn't consent until Betty came back, for fear we 
would be lonesome. It quite touched me when I heard 
of it. Win has some ideas about her education, and I 
guess he's nearer right. So that needn't trouble you. 
It would be so much better for you to sell." 

" I'll think it orer," she said almost gruffly, for she 
was moved herself. " I never could get along with this 
Rachel Day. She doesn't allow that anyone in the world 
knows anything but herself, and I kept house before she 
was born. I don't like quite such smart people." 

Miss Hetty Perkins came in to offer her services as 
housekeeper. Every now and then she had " edged 
round," as Aunt Priscilla expressed it. Everybody said 
Hetty was closer than the skin, but then she had no one 
except herself to depend upon. And Amos Perkins 
called to see if Aunt Priscilla had anyone she could 
trust to do her business. He heard she was going to 
sell. 

" I haven't made up my mind," she answered tartly. 
She was not fond of Amos either. 

Then the would-be purchaser found he could have a 
place two doors below. He did not like it as well, but it 
would answer. 

" It seems as if I was bound to have a rum shop and a 
sailor's boarding-house under my nose. There'll be a 
crowd of men hanging round and fiddling and carousing 
half the night. I don't see what's getting into Boston! 
Places that were good enough twenty year ago are only 
fit for tramps, and decent people have to get out of the 
way, whether they will or no." 

Betty came home the last of March. She looked 



VARIOUS OPINIONS OF LITTLE GIRLS. 207 

taller perhaps it was because she wore her dresses so 
long and her hair so high. She had a pretty new frock 
a rich warm brown ground, with little flowers in green 
and yellow and a kind of dull red sprinkled all over it. 
It had come from New York, and was called delaine. 
She had discarded her homespun woolen. And, oh, how 
stylishly pretty she was, quite like the young ladies at 
Madam Royall's! 

She held Doris to her heart and almost smothered her, 
kissing her fondly. 

"You have grown lovely by the minute!" she cried. 
" I was so afraid someone would cut your hair. 'Lecty 
said at first that I had only one idea, and that was Doris 
Adams, I talked about you so much. And she's wild 
to see you. She's quite grand and full of fun, altogether 
different from Mary. Mary holds onto every penny 
until I should think she'd pinch it thin. And I've had 
the most magnificent time, though Hartford is nothing 
compared to Boston. It is like a country place where 
you know everybody that is at all worth knowing. I 
have such lots of things to tell you." 

It came rather hard to take up the old routine of work, 
and get up early in the morning. She was dismayed by 
the news that Aunt Priscilla was coming and Doris 
going. 

" Though I don't know," she declared after reflecting 
a day or two on the subject. " I'll have such a good 
excuse to go to Uncle Win's, and we can have delightful 
talks. But Aunt Priscilla is certainly a dispensation of 
Providence equal to St. Paul's thorn in the flesh." 

" I've made her some visits this winter, and she has 
been real nice," said Doris. " I shouldn't mind her at 
all now. And I told Uncle Win that I would like to be 
two little girls, so one could stay here. I love Uncle Win 
very much. I love your father too." 



2o8 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

" Is there anybody in the whole wide world you do not 
love?" 

Doris flushed. She had not been able to feel very 
tenderly toward Mrs. Manning, and Mrs. Hollis Lev- 
erett talked about her being so backward, and such a 
" meachin " little thing. 

" I dare say if the truth was known, her mother died 
of consumption. And that great mop of hair is enough 
to take the strength out of any child. I wouldn't have it 
on Bessy's head for an hour," declared Mrs. Hollis. 

But Bessy told her in a confidential whisper that she 
thought her curls the sweetest thing in the world, and 
when she was a grown-up young lady she meant to curl 
her hair all over her head. 

Doris was glad Uncle Winthrop did not find any fault 
with them. 

Of course she should be sorry to go. It was curious 
how one could be glad and sorry in a breath. 

Mrs. Leverett went over to Aunt Priscilla's to help 
pack. Oh, the boxes and bundles and bags! They 
were tied up and labeled; some of them had not been 
opened for years. Gowns that she had outgrown, stock 
ings she had knit, petticoats she had quilted quite a 
fashion then. 

" It's lucky we have a big garret," said Mrs. Leverett. 
"And whatever will you do with them?" 

" There's that flax wheel it was grandmother's. She 
was like Benjamin Franklin, who gave his sister Jane a 
spinning wheel on her wedding day: she gave me that. 
And Jane's gone, though I did hear someone bought the 
wheel for a sort of keepsake. Oh, Elizabeth, I don't 
know what you will do with all this old trumpery! " 

Elizabeth hardly knew either. It was good to have 
children and grandchildren to take some of these things, 
just to keep one from hoarding up. Elizabeth, sweet 



VARIOUS OPINIONS OF LITTLE GIRLS. 209 

soul, remembered the poor at her gates as well. But 
most people were fond of holding onto everything until 
their latest breath. There was some virtue in it, for the 
later generations had many priceless heirlooms. 

One of the south rooms was emptied, and after a great 
deal of argument Aunt Priscilla was prevailed upon to 
use her best chamber furniture for the rest of her life. 
She had not cared much for the housekeeping project, 
and decided she would rather board a while until she 
could get back some of her strength. 

"What are you going to do with Solomon?" asked 
Doris. 

" Well I don't know. Aunt Elizabeth doesn't like 
cats very much. He's such a nice fellow, I should hate 
to leave him behind and have him neglected. But it's 
bad luck to move cats." 

" I should like to have him." 

" Would you, now? He's almost like a human. I've 
said that many a time; and he went round asking after 
Polly just as plain as anyone could. I declare, it made 
my heart ache. Polly had been a capable woman, and 
Mr. Perkins bought her, so I didn't feel free to turn her 
away when he was gone. And I'd grown used to a 
servant, too. I don't know what I should have done 
without her the two years he was ailing. Though when 
she came to be forgetful and lose her judgment it did 
use to try me. But I'm glad now I kept her to the end. 
I'd borrowed a sight of trouble thinking what I'd do if 
she fell sick, and I might just as well have trusted the 
Lord right straight along. When I come to have this 
other creetur ordering everything, and making tea her 
way, she will boil it and you might as well give me 
senna, then I knew Polly had some sense and memory, 
after all. You can't think how I miss her! I'm sorry 
for every bit of fault I've found these last two years." 



2io A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

Aunt Priscilla stopped to take breath and wipe her 
eyes. Polly's death had opened her mind to many 
things. 

Doris sat and stroked Solomon and rubbed him under 
the throat. Now and then he looked up with an intent, 
asking gaze, and a solemn flick of one ear, as if he said, 
" Can't you tell me where Polly is gone? " 

" You'd have to ask Uncle Winthrop. And I don't 
know what Miss Recompense would say." 

" She likes cats." 

" Oh. Well, I'm afraid Uncle Winthrop doesn't." 

" If he should" tentatively. 

" I think I'd miss Solomon a good deal. But he'd be 
a bother to keep at the Leveretts'. I would like him 
to have a good home. And he is very fond of you." 

Uncle Win was over the very next day, and Doris laid 
the case before him. 

" I like the picture of comfort a nice cat makes before 
the fire. I haven't any objection to cats in themselves. 
But I dislike cat hairs." 

" Uncle Win, I could brush you off. And Solomon 
has been so well trained. He has a box with a cushion, 
so he never jumps up in chairs. And he has a piece of 
blanket on the rug where he lies. He loves me so, and 
Aunt Elizabeth can't bear cats. Oh, I wish I might 
have him." 

" I'll talk to Miss Recompense. She's having a little 
room fixed up for you just off of hers. It opens on the 
hall, and it has a window where you can see the sun rise. 
I think through the summer you need not go to school, 
but study at home as you did Christmas week." 

"That will be delightful! And I shall be so glad 
when it is truly spring." 

It had been a long cold winter, but now there were 
signs everywhere of a curious awakening among the 



VARIOUS OPINIONS OF LITTLE GIRLS. 211 

maples. Some were already out in red bloom. The 
grass had begun to spring up in its soft green, though 
there were patches of ice in shady places and a broad 
skim along the edge of the Charles River marsh. But 
the bay and the harbor were clear and beautiful. 

Betty and Doris had confidential chats after they 
were in bed in very low tones, lest they should be 
heard. 

" Everybody would be shocked to see how really gay 
Electa is. There are very religious people in Hartford, 
too, who begin on Saturday night. But the men insist 
upon parties and dinners, and they bring their fashions 
up from New York. Boston is just as gay in some 
places, and Jane Morse has had a splendid time this win 
ter going to dances. The gentlemen who come to Mr. 
King's are so polite, some of them elegant. I envy 
'Lecty. It's just the kind of world to live in." 

" And I want to hear about your pink silk." 

" I left it at 'Lecty's. It was too gay to bring home. 
It would have frightened everybody. And 'Lecty thinks 
of going to New York next winter, and if she does she 
will send for me. I should have had to rumple it all up 
bringing it home, and I don't believe I'd had a chance to 
wear it. I have the other two, and Mat thought the blue 
and white one very pretty. Mat laughs at what he calls 
Puritanism, and says the world is growing broader and 
more generous. He- is a splendid man too, and though 
he is making a good deal of money he doesn't think all 
the time of saving, as Mary and her husband do. He is 
good to the poor, and generous and kind, and wants 
everyone to be happy. Of course they go to church, 
but there is a curious difference. I sometimes wonder 
who is right and if it is a sin to be happy." 

Doris' mind had no especial theological bent, and her 
conscience had not been trained to keep on the alert. 



212 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

" It was very nice in him to give it to you. And you 
must have looked lovely in it." 

" Oh, the frock," Betty laughed. " Yes, I did. And 
when you know you look nice you stop feeling anxious 
about it. It was just so at Jane's party. But I should 
have been mortified in my gray woolen gown. Well 
the mortification may be good, but it isn't pleasant. I 
wore the pink silk to the weddings and to some dinners. 
Dinners are quite grand things there, but they last so 
long I should call them suppers. And sometimes 
there is a grand march afterward, which is a kind of 
stately dancing. It has been just delightful. I don't 
know how I will settle down and wash and iron and 
scrub. But I would a great deal rather be in 'Lecty's 
place than in Mary's, and saving up money to buy farms 
isn't everything to life. I think the Mannings worship 
their farms and stock a good deal more than 'Lecty and 
Mat do their fine house and their money and all." 

Her admirers and her conquests she confided to Janie 
Morse. There was one very charming young man that 
she liked a great deal, but her sister said she was too 
young to keep company, and there might be next winter 
in New York. 

It spoke volumes for the wholesome, sensible nature of 
Betty Leverett that she could take her olden place in the 
household, assist her mother, and entertain her father 
with the many interesting events of her gay and happy 
winter. 



IN THE SPRING. 213 

CHAPTER XIV. 

IN THE SPRING. 

HP HE matter had settled itself so easily that Doris could 
* not find much opportunity for sorrow, nor misgiv 
ings for her joy. She could not see the struggle there 
had been in Uncle Leverett's mind, and the sturdy com 
mon sense that had come to his assistance. He could 
recall habits of second-cousin Charles that were like a 
woman's for daintiness, and Winthrop Adams had the 
same touch of refinement and delicacy. It was in the 
Adams blood, doubtless. Aunt Priscilla had not a large 
share, but he had noted some of it in Elizabeth. It per 
vaded every atom of Doris' slender body and every cell 
of her brain. She never would take to the rougher, 
coarser things of life; indeed, why should she when there 
was no need? He had wandered so far from the ortho 
dox faith that he began to question useless discipline. 

Winthrop could understand and care for her better. 
She would grow up in his house to the kind of girl nature 
had meant her to be. Here the useful, that might never 
come in use, would be mingled and confused with what 
was necessary. He had watched her trying to achieve 
the stocking that all little girls could knit at her age. It 
was as bad as Penelope's web. Aunt Elizabeth pulled it 
out after she had gone to bed, and knit two or three 
" rounds," so as not to utterly discourage her inapt pupil. 
But Doris had set up some lace on a " cushion," after 
Madam Sheafe's direction, and it grew a web of beauty 
under her dainty fingers. 

It was not as if Doris would be quite lost to them. 
They would see her every day or two. And when it was 



214 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

decided that Aunt Priscilla would come he was really 
glad. Aunt Priscilla's captious talk did not always pro 
ceed from an unkindly heart. 

Betty made a violent protest at first. 

" After all, it will not be quite so bad as I thought," 
she admitted presently. " I shall go to Uncle Win's 
twice as often, and I have always been so fond of him. 
And things are prettier there, somehow. There is a 
great difference in the way people live, and I mean to 
change some things. It isn't because one is ashamed to 
be old-fashioned; some of the old ways are lovely. It is 
only when you tack hardness and commonness on them 
and think ugliness has a real virtue in it. We will have 
both sides to talk about. But if you were going back to 
England, it would break my heart, Doris." 

Doris winked some tears out of her eyes. 

She thought her room at Uncle Win's was like a 
picture. The wall was whitewashed: people thought 
then it was much healthier for sleeping chambers. The 
floor was painted a rather palish yellow. There was only 
one window, but the door was opposite, and a door that 
opened into the room of Miss Recompense. The win 
dow had white curtains with ruffled edges, made of rather 
coarse muslin, but it was clear, and looked very tidy. 
Miss Recompense had found a small bedstead among the 
stored-away articles. It had high posts and curtains 
and valance of pale-blue flowered chintz. There was a 
big bureau, a dressing table covered with white, and a 
looking glass prettily draped. At the top of this, sur 
mounted by a gilt eagle, was a marvelous picture of a 
man with a blue coat and yellow smallclothes handing 
into a boat a lady who wore a skirt of purple and an 
overdress of scarlet, very much betrimmed, holding a 
green parasol over her head with one hand and placing 
a slippered foot on the edge of the boat. After a long 



IN THE SPRING. 215 

while Doris thought she should be much relieved to have 
them sail off somewhere. 

There were two quaint rush-bottomed chairs and a 
yellow stool, such as we tie with ribbons and call a milk 
ing stool. A nice warm rug lay at the side of the bed, 
and a smaller one at the washing stand. These were 
woven like rag carpet, but made of woolen rags with 
plenty of ends standing up all over, like the surface of a 
Moquette carpet. They were considered quite hand 
some then, as they were more trouble than braided rugs, 
and so soft to the foot. Some strenuous housekeepers 
declared them terrible dust catchers. 

Doris' delight in the room amply repaid Miss Recom 
pense. She had learned her way about, and could come 
down alone, now that the weather had grown pleasanter, 
and she was full of joy over everything. Occasionally 
Uncle Winthrop would be out, then she and Miss 
Recompense would have what they called a " nice talk." 

Miss Recompense Gardiner was quite sure she had 
never seen just such a child. Indeed at five-and-forty 
she was rather set in her ways, disliked noise and bustle, 
and could not bear to have a house " torn up," as she 
phrased it. Twelve years before she had come here to 
" housekeep," as the old phrase went. She had not 
lacked admirers, but she had been very particular. Her 
sisters said she was a born old maid. There was in her 
soul a great love of refinement and order. 

Mr. Winthrop Adams just suited her. He was quiet, 
neat, made no trouble, and did not smoke. That was a 
wretched habit in her estimation. Cousin Charles used 
to come over, and different branches of the family were 
invited in now and then to tea. Cary was a rather 
proper, well-ordered boy, trained by his mother's sister, 
who had married and gone away just before the advent 
of Miss Gardiner. There had been some talk that Mr. 



216 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

Winthrop might espouse Miss Harriet Gary in the course 
of time, but as there were no signs, and Miss Gary had an 
excellent offer of marriage, she accepted it. 

Gary went to the Latin School and then to Harvard. 
He was a fair average boy, a good student, and ready 
for his share of fun at any time. His father had marked 
out his course, which was to be law, and Gary was indif 
ferent as to what he took up. 

So they had gone on year after year. It promised a 
pleasant break to have the little girl. 

The greatest trouble, Miss Recompense thought, would 
be making Solomon feel at home. Doris brought his 
cushion, and the box he slept in at night was sent. 
Warren brought him over in a bag and they put him in 
the closet for the night. He uttered some pathetic wails, 
and Doris talked to him until he quieted down. He was 
a good deal frightened the next morning, but he clung 
to Doris, who carried him about in her arms and intro 
duced him to every place. He was afraid of Mr. Adams 
and Cato, his acquaintance with men having been rather 
limited. After several days he began to feel quite at 
home, and took cordially to his cushion in the corner. 

" He doesn't offer to run away," announced Doris to 
Aunt Priscilla. " He likes Miss Recompense. Uncle 
Winthrop thinks him the handsomest cat he has ever 
seen." 

" Poor old Polly ! She set a great deal of store by 
Solomon. I never did care much for a cat, but I do 
think Solomon was most as wise as folks. I don't know 
what I should have done last winter when I was so 
miserable if it had not been for him. He seemed to take 
such comfort that it was almost as good as a sermon. 
And sometimes when he purred it was like the sound of 
a hymn with the up and down and the long notes. I 
don't believe he would have stayed with anyone else 



IN THE SPRING. 217 

though. Child, what is there about you that just goes 
to the heart of even a dumb beast ? " 

Doris looked amazed, then thoughtful. " I suppose it 
is because I love them," she said simply. 

There was a great stir everywhere, it seemed. The 
slow spring had really come at last. The streets were 
being cleared up, the gardens put in order, some of the 
houses had a fresh coat of paint ; the stores put out their 
best array, the trees were misty-looking with tiny green 
shoots, and the maples Doris thought wonderful. There 
were four in the row on Common Street; one was full 
of soft dull-red blooms, one had little pale-green hoods 
on the end of every twig, another looked as if it held a 
tiny scarlet parasol over each baby bud, and the fourth 
dropped clusters of brownish-green fringe. 

" Oh, how beautiful they are! " cried Doris, her eyes 
alight with enthusiasm. 

And then all the great Common began to put on spring 
attire. The marsh grass over beyond sent up stiff green 
spikes and tussocks that looked like little islands, and 
there were water plants with large leaves that seemed 
continually nodding to their neighbors. The frog con 
certs at the pond were simply bewildering with the 
variety of voices, each one proclaiming that the reign of 
ice and snow was at an end and they were giving thanks. 

" They are so glad," declared Doris. " I shouldn't 
like to be frozen up all winter in a little hole." 

Miss Recompense smiled. Perhaps they were grate 
ful. She had never thought of it before. 

Doris did not go back to Mrs. Webb's school, though 
that lady said she was sorry to give her up. Uncle Win 
gave her some lessons, and she went to writing school 
for an hour every day. Miss Recompense instructed her 
how to keep her room tidy, but Uncle Win said there 
would be time enough for her to learn housekeeping. 



2i8 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

Then there were hunts for flowers. Betty came over; 
she knew some nooks where the trailing arbutus grew 
and bloomed. The swamp pinks and the violets of every 
shade and almost every size from the wee little fellow 
who sheltered his head under his mother's leaf-green 
umbrella to the tall, sentinel-like fellow who seemed to 
fling out defiance. Doris used to come home with her 
hands full of blooms. 

The rides too were delightful. They went over the 
bridges to West Boston and South Boston and to Cam 
bridge, going through the college buildings small, in 
deed, compared with the magnificent pile of to-day. But 
Boston did seem almost like a collection of islands. The 
bays and rivers, the winding creeks that crept through 
the green marsh grass, the long low shores held no pre 
sentiment of the great city that was to be. 

Although people groaned over hard times and talked 
of war, still the town kept a thriving aspect. Men were 
at work leveling Beacon Hill. Boylston Street was 
being made something better than a lane, and Common 
Street was improved. Uncle Winthrop said next thing 
he supposed they would begin to improve him and order 
him to take up his house and walk. For houses were 
moved even then, when they stood in the way of a 
street. 

The earth from the hill, or rather hills, went to fill in 
the Mill Pond. Lord Lyndhurst had once owned a large 
part, but he had gone to England to live. Charles Street 
was partly laid out as far as the flats were filled in. It 
was quite entertaining to watch the great patient oxen, 
which, when they were standing still, chewed their cud in 
solemn content and gazed around as though they could 
predict unutterable things. 

From the house down to Common Street was a kind 
of garden where Cato raised vegetables and Miss Recom- 



IN THE SPRING. 219 

pense had her beds of sweet and medicinal herbs. For 
then the housekeeper concocted various household reme 
dies, and made extracts by the use of a little still for 
flavoring and perfumery. She gathered all the rose 
leaves and lavender blossoms and sewed them up in thin 
muslin bags and laid them in the drawers and closets. 

And, oh, what roses she had then! Great sweet 
damask roses, pink and the loveliest deep red, twice as 
large as the Jack roses of to-day. And trailing pink and 
white roses climbing over everything. Aunt Elizabeth 
said Miss Recompense could make a dry stick grow and 
bloom. 

Uncle Winthrop found a new and charming interest 
in the little girl. She was so fond of taking walks and 
hearing the legends about the old places. She could see 
where the old beacon had stood when the place was 
called Sentry Hill, and she knew it had been blown down 
in a gale, and that on the spot had been erected a 
beautiful Doric column surmounted by an eagle, to 
commemorate " the train of events that led to the 
American Revolution and finally secured liberty and 
Independence." 

But the State House had made one great excavation, 
and the Mill Pond Corporation was making others, and 
they were planning to remove the monument. 

" We ought to have more regard for these old places," 
Uncle Win used to say with a sigh. 

Gary had not been a companionable child. He was a 
regular boy, and the great point of interest in Sentry 
Hill for him was batting a ball up the hill. It was a 
proud day for him when he carried it farther than any 
other boy. He was fond of games of all kinds, and was 
one of the fleetest runners and a fine oarsman, and could 
sail a boat equal to any old salt, he thought. He was a 
boy, of course, and Uncle Win did not want him to be a 



220 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

" Molly coddle," so he gave in, for he did not quite know 
what to do with a lad who could tumble more books 
around in five minutes than he could put in order in half 
an hour, and knew more about every corner in Old Bos 
ton than anyone else, and was much more confident of 
his knowledge. 

But this little girl, who soon learned the peculiarity of 
every tree, the song of the different birds, and the sea 
son of bloom for wild flowers, and could listen for hours 
to the incidents of the past, that seem of more vital im 
portance to middle-aged people than the matters of 
every day, was a veritable treasure to Mr. Winthrop 
Adams. He did not mind if she could not knit a stock 
ing, and he sometimes excused her deficiencies in arith 
metic because she was so fond of hearing him read 
poetry. For Doris thought, of all the things in the 
world, being able to write verses was the most delightful, 
and that was her aim when she was a grown-up young 
lady. She did pick up a good deal of general knowledge 
that she would not have acquired at school, but Uncle 
Win wasn't quite sure how much a girl ought to be 
educated. 

She began to see considerable of the Chapman girls, 
and Madam Royall grew very fond of her. But she did 
not forget her dear friends in Sudbury Street. Some 
times when Uncle Win was going out to a supper or to 
stay away all the evening she would go up and spend 
the night with Betty, and sit in the old corner, for it was 
Uncle Leverett's favorite place whether there was fire 
or not. He was as fond as ever of listening to her 
chatter. 

She always brought a message to Aunt Priscilla about 
Solomon. Uncle Winthrop thought him the hand 
somest cat he had ever seen, and now Solomon was not 
even afraid of Cato, but would walk about the garden 



IN THE SPRING. 221 

with him, and Miss Recompense said he was so much 
company when she, Doris, was out of the house. 

Indeed, he would look at her with inquiring eyes and 
a soft, questioning sound in his voice that was not quite 
a mew. 

" Yes," Miss Recompense would say, " Doris has gone 
up to Sudbury Street. We miss her, don't we, Solomon? 
It's a different house without her." 

Solomon would assent in a wise fashion. 

" I never did think to take comfort in talking to a cat," 
Miss Recompense would say to herself with a touch of 
sarcasm. 

About the middle of June, when roses and spice pinks 
and ten-weeks' stocks, and sweet-williams were at their 
best, Mr. Adams always gave a family gathering at 
which cousins to the third and fourth generation were 
invited. Everything was at its loveliest, and the Mall 
just across the street was resplendent in beauty. Even 
then it had magnificent trees and great stretches of grass, 
green and velvety. Already it was a favorite strolling 
place. 

Miss Recompense had sent a special request for Betty 
on that particular afternoon and evening. There was 
to be a high tea at five o'clock. 

" I shall have my new white frock all done," said Betty 
delightedly. " There is just a little needlework around 
the neck and the skirt to sew on." 

" But I wouldn't wear it," rejoined her mother. 
" You may get a fruit stain on it, or meet with some 
accident. Miss Recompense will expect you to work a 
little." 

" Have you anything new, Doris? " 

" Oh, yes," replied Doris. " A white India muslin, 
and a cambric with a tiny rosebud in it. Madam Royall 
chose them and ordered them made. And, Betty, I have 



222 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

almost outgrown the silk already. Madam Royall is 
going to see about getting it altered. And in the 
autumn Helen Chapman will have a birthday company, 
and I am invited already, or my frock is," and Doris 
laughed. " She has made me promise to wear it then." 

" You go to the Royalls' a good deal," exclaimed Aunt 
Priscilla jealously. She was sitting in a high-backed 
chair, very straight and prim. She was not quite at 
home yet, and kept wondering if she wouldn't rather have 
her own house if she could get a reasonable sort of serv 
ant. Still, she did enjoy the sociable side of life, and it 
was pleasant here at Cousin Leverett's. They all tried to 
make her feel at home, and though Betty tormented her 
sometimes by a certain argumentativeness, she was very 
ready to wait on her. Aunt Priscilla did like to hear of 
the delightful entertainments her silk gown had gone to 
after being hidden away so many years. As for the hat, 
a young Englishman had said " She looked like a prin 
cess in it." 

" You are just eaten up with vanity, Betty Leverett," 
Aunt Priscilla tried to rejoin in her severest tone. 

Doris glanced over to her now. 

" Yes," she answered. " Uncle Winthrop thinks I 
ought to know something about little girls. Eudora is 
six months older than I am. They have such a magnifi 
cent swing, four girls can sit in it. Helen is studying 
French and the young ladies can talk a little. They do 
not see how I can talk so fast." 

Doris laughed gleefully. Aunt Priscilla sniffed. 
Winthrop Adams would make a flighty, useless girl out 
of her. And companying so much with rich people 
would fill her mind with vanity. Yes, the child would be 
ruined! 

" And we tell each other stories about our Boston. 
This Boston," making a pretty gesture with her hand, 



IN THE SPRING. 223 

" has the most splendid ones about the war and all, and 
the ships coming over here almost two hundred years 
ago. It is a long while to live one hundred years, even. 
But I knew about Mr. Cotton and the lady Arabella 
Johnston. They had not heard about the saint and how 
his body was carried around to make it rain." 

" To make it rain! Whose body was it, pray? " asked 
Aunt Priscilla sharply, scenting heresy. She was not 
quite sure but so much French would shut one out from 
final salvation. " Did you have saints in Old Boston? " 

"Oh, it was the old Saint of the Church St. Botolph." 
Doris hesitated and glanced up at Uncle Leverett, who 
nodded. " He was a very, very good man," she resumed 
seriously. " And one summer there was a very long 
drought. The grass all dried up, the fruit began to fall 
off, and they were afraid there would be nothing for the 
cattle to feed upon. So they took up St. Botolph in his 
coffin and carried him all around the town, praying as 
they went. And it began to rain." 

" Stuff and nonsense! The idea of reasonable human 
beings believing that! " 

" But you know the prophet prayed for rain in the 
Bible." 

" But to take up his body ! Are they doing it now in 
a dry time?" Aunt Priscilla asked sarcastically. 

" They don't now, but it was said they did it several 
times, and it always rained." 

" They wan't good orthodox Christians. No one ever 
heard of such a thing." 

" But our orthodox Christians believed in witches 
even the descendants of this very John Cotton who came 
over to escape the Lords Bishops," said Warren. 

" And, unlike Mr. Blacksone, stayed and had a hard 
time with the Lords Brethren," said Mr. Leverett. " I 
hardly know which was the worst " smiling with a 



224 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

glint of humor. " And you more than half believe in 
witches yourself, Aunt Priscilla." 

" I am sure I have reason to. Grandmother Parker 
was a good woman if ever there was one, and she was 
bewitched. And would it have said in the Bible ' Thou 
shalt not suffer a witch to live/ if there had not been 
any?" 

" They were telling stories at Madam Royall's one day. 
And sometime Uncle Winthrop is going to take us all 
to Marblehead, where Mammy Redd lived. Eudora said 
this: 

"' Old Mammy Redd 
Of Marblehead 
Sweet milk could turn 
To mold in churn.' 

And Uncle Winthrop has a big book about them." 

" He had better take you to Salem. That was the 
very hotbed of it all," said Warren. 

Doris came around to Aunt Priscilla. " Did your 
grandmother really see a witch?" she asked in a serious 
tone. 

" Well, perhaps she didn't exactly see it. But she 
was living at Salem and had a queer neighbor. One 
day they had some words, and when grandmother went 
to churn her milk turned all moldy and spoiled the but 
ter. Grandmother didn't even dare feed it to the pigs. 
So it went on several times. Then another neighbor said 
to her, 'The next time it happens you just throw a dipper- 
full over the back log.' And so grandmother did. It 
made an awful smell and smoke. Then she washed out 
her churn and put it away. She was barely through 
when someone came running in, and said, ' Have you any 
sweet oil, Mrs. Parker? Hetty Lane set herself afire 
cleaning the cinders out of her oven, and she's dreadfully 
burned. Come right over.' Grandmother was a little 



IN THE SPRING. 225 

afraid, but she went, and, sure enough, it had happened 
just the moment she threw the milk in the fire. One 
side of her was burned, and one hand. And although 
the neighbors suspected her, they were all very kind to 
her while she was ill. But grandmother had no more 
trouble after that, and it was said Hetty Lane never be 
witched anybody again." 

" It's something like the kelpies and brownies Barby 
used to tell about that were in England long time ago," 
said Doris, big-eyed. " They hid tools and ate up the 
food and spoiled the milk and the bread, turning it to 
stone. They went away perhaps someone burned 
them up." 

Aunt Priscilla gave her sniff. To be compared with 
such childish stuff! 

" It was very curious," said Mrs. Leverett. " I have 
always been glad I was not alive at that time. Some 
times unaccountable things happen." 

" Did you ever see a truly witch yourself, Aunt Pris 
cilla? " asked the child. 

" No, I never did," she answered honestly. 

" Then I guess they did go with the fairies and kelpies. 
Could I tell your story over sometime? " she inquired 
eagerly. 

Telling ghost stories and witch stories was quite an 
amusement at that period. 

" Why, yes if you want to." She was rather pleased 
to have it go to the Royalls'. 

" The last stitch," and Betty folded up her work. 
" Come, Doris, say good-night, and let us go to bed." 

Doris put a little kiss on Aunt Priscilla's wrinkled 
hand. 



226 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 
CHAPTER XV. 

A FREEDOM SUIT. 

A UNT PRISCILLA had a dozen changes of mind as 
** to whether to go to Cousin Adams' or not. But 
Betty insisted. She trimmed her cap and altered the 
sleeves of her best black silk gown. The elderly people 
were wearing " leg-o'-mutton " sleeves now, while the 
young people had great puffs. Long straight Puritan 
sleeves were hardly considered stylish. And then 
Cousin Win sent the chaise up for her. 

Mrs. March, Gary's aunt, had come up to Boston to 
make a little visit. Mr. March was a ship builder at 
Plymouth. She was quite anxious to see this cousin 
that Cary had talked about so much, and she was almost 
jealous lest he should be crowded out of his rightful 
place. She had no children of her own, but her hus 
band had four when they were married. So a kind of 
motherly sympathy still went out to Cary. 

Betty came over in the morning. She and Miss 
Recompense were always very friendly. They talked of 
jells and jams and preserves; it was too early for any 
fresh fruit except strawberries, and Cato always took a 
good deal of pains to have these of the very nicest. 

The wide fireplace was filled in with green boughs and 
the shining leaves of "bread and butter." The rugs were 
taken up and the floor had a coat of polish. The parlor 
was wide open, arrayed in the stately furnishings of a 
century ago. There were two Louis XIV. chairs that 
had really come from France. There were some square, 
heavy pieces of furniture that we should call Eastlake 
now. And the extravagant thing was a Brussels carpet 
with a scroll centerpiece and a border in arabesque. 



A FREEDOM SUIT. 227 

The guests began to come at two. Miss Recompense 
and Betty had been arranging the long table with its 
thick basket-work cloth that was fragrant with sweet 
scents. Betty wore her blue and white silk, as that had 
met with some mishaps at Hartford. Miss Recompense 
had on a brown silk with a choice bit of thread lace, 
and a thread lace cap. Many of the elderly society 
ladies wore immense headgears like turbans, with some 
times one or two marabou feathers, which were con 
sidered extremely elegant. But Miss Recompense kept 
to her small rather plain cap, and looked very ladylike, 
quite fit to do the honors of the house. 

Some of the cousins had driven in from Cambridge 
and South Boston. Miss Cragie, who admired her 
second-cousin Adams very much, and it was said would 
not have been averse to a marriage with him, came over 
from the old house that had once been Washington's 
headquarters and was to be more famous still as the 
home of one of America's finest poets. She took a great 
interest in Gary and made him a welcome guest. 

We should call it a kind of lawn party now. The 
guests flitted around the garden and lawn, inspected the 
promising fruit trees, and were enthusiastic over the 
roses. Then they wandered over to the Mall and dis 
cussed the impending changes in Boston, and said, as 
people nearly always do, that it would be ruined by im 
provements. It was sacrilegious to take away Beacon 
Hill. It was absurd to think of filling in the flats ! Who 
would want to live on made ground? And where were 
all the people to come from to build houses on these 
wonderful streets? Why, it was simply ridiculous! 

There were some young men who felt rather awkward 
and kept in a little knot with Gary. There were a few 
young girls who envied Betty Leverett her at-homeness, 
and the fact that she had spent a winter in Hartford. 



228 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

Croquet would have been a boon then, to make a breach 
in the walls of deadly reserve. 

Elderly men smoked, walked about, and talked of the 
prospect of war. Most of them had high hopes of Presi 
dent Madison just now. 

Doris was a point of interest for everybody. Her 
charming simplicity went to all hearts. Betty had 
dressed her hair a dozen different ways, but found none 
so pretty as tying part of the curls on top with a ribbon. 
She had grown quite a little taller, but was still slim and 
fair. 

Miss Cragie took a great fancy to her and said she 
must come and spend the day with her and visit the 
notable points of Cambridge. And next year Gary 
would graduate, and she supposed they would have a 
grand time. 

The supper was quite imposing. Cato's nephew, a 
tidy young colored lad, came from one of the inns, and 
acquitted himself with superior elegance. It was indeed 
a feast, enlivened with bright conversation. People ex 
pected to talk then, not look bored and indifferent. 
Each one brought something besides appetite to the 
feast. 

Afterward they went out on the porch and sang, the 
ice being broken between the younger part of the com 
pany. There were some amusing patriotic songs with 
choruses that inspired even the older people. " Hail, 
Columbia ! " was greeted with applause. 

There were sentimental songs as well, Scotch and old 
English ballads. Two of Cary's friends sang " Queen 
Mary's Escape " with a great deal of spirit. Then Uncle 
Win asked Doris if she could not sing a little French 
song that she sang for him quite often, and that was set 
to a very touching melody. 

She hung back and colored up, but she did want to 



A FREEDOM SUIT. 229 

please Uncle Win. She was standing beside him, so 
she straightened up and took a step out, and holding his 
hand sang with a grace that went to each heart. But 
she hid herself behind Uncle Win's shoulder when the 
compliments began. Gary came around, and said " She 
need not be afraid; it was just beautiful! " 

After that the company began to disperse. Every 
body said " It always was delightful to come over here," 
and the women wondered how it happened that such an 
attractive man as Mr. Winthrop Adams had not married 
again and had someone to entertain regularly. 

There was a magnificent full moon, and the air was de 
licious with fragrance. One after another drove away, 
or taking the arm of a companion uttered a cordial good 
night. Mr. Adams had sent some elderly friends home 
in a carriage, and begged the Leveretts to wait until it 
came back. 

Warren had not been very intimate with the young 
collegian; their walks in life lay quite far apart. But 
Gary came and joined them as they were all out on the 
porch. 

" I hope you had a pleasant time," he began. " If it 
had not been a family party I should have asked the 
club to come over and sing some of the college songs. 
Arthur Sprague has a fine voice. And you sing very 
well, Warren." 

" I have been in a singing class this winter, I like 
music so much." 

" You ought to hear half a dozen of our fellows to 
gether! But this little bird warbled melodiously," and 
he put his arm over the shoulder of Doris. " I did not 
know she could move an audience so deeply." 

" I was so frightened at first," began Doris with a 
long breath. " I don't mind singing for Uncle Win, and 
one day when there were some guests Madam Royall 



230 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

asked me to sing a little French song she had known in 
her youth. Isn't it queer a song should last so 
long? " 

" The fine songs ought to last forever. I hope we will 
have some national songs presently besides the ridicu 
lous ' Yankee Doodle.' It doesn't seem quite so bad 
when it is played by the band and men are marching 
to it." 

Gary straightened himself up. Being slender he often 
allowed his shoulders to droop. 

" Now you look like a soldier," exclaimed Warren. 

" I'd like to be one, first-rate. I'd leave college now 
and go in the Navy if there was another boy to follow 
out father's plans. But I can't bear to disappoint him. 
It's hard to go against your father when you are all he 
has. So I suppose I will go on and study law, and some 
day you will hear of my being judge. But we are going 
to have a big war, and I would like to take a hand in it. 
I wish I was twenty-one." 

" I shall be next month. I am going to have a little 
company. I'd like you to come, Gary." 

" I just will, thank you. What are you going to do? " 

" I shall stay with father, of course. I have been learn 
ing the business. I think I shouldn't like to go to war 
unless the enemy really came to us. I should fight for 
my home." 

" There are larger questions even than homes," re 
plied Gary. 

Betty came around the corner of the porch with Uncle 
Win, to whom she was talking in her bright, energetic 
fashion. Aunt Elizabeth said it was very pleasant to see 
so many of the relatives again. 

" The older generation is dropping out, and we shall 
soon be among the old people ourselves," Mr. Leverett 



A FREEDOM SUIT. 231 

said. " I was thinking to-night how many youngish 
people were here who have grown up in the last ten 
years." 

" We each have a young staff to lean upon," rejoined 
Mr. Adams proudly, glancing at the two boys. 

The carriage came round. Aunt Priscilla shook hands 
with Cousin Winthrop, and said, much moved: 

" I've had a pleasant time, and I had a good mind not 
to come. I'm getting old and queer and not fit for any 
thing but to sit in the corner and grumble, instead of 
frolicking round." 

" Oh, don't grumble. Why, I believe I am going 
backward. I feel ten years younger, and you are not 
old enough to die of old age. Betty, you must keep 
prodding her up." 

He handed her in the carriage himself, and when they 
were all in Doris said: 

" It seems as if I ought to go, too." 

Uncle Win caught her hand, as if she might run away. 

" I do think Cousin Winthrop has improved of late," 
said Mrs. Leverett. " He has gained a little flesh and 
looks so bright and interested, and he talked to all the 
folks in such a cordial way, as if he was really glad to see 
them. And those strawberries did beat all for size. 
Betty, the table looked like a feast for a king, if they de 
serve anything better than common folks." 

" Any other child would be clear out of bonds and past 
redemption," declared Aunt Priscilla. " Everybody 
made so much of her, as if it was her party. And how 
the little creetur does sing! I'd like to hear her prais 
ing the Lord with that voice instead of wasting it on 
French things that may be so bad you couldn't say them 
in good English." 

"That isn't," replied Betty. "It is a little good- 



232 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

night that her mother used to sing to her and taught 
her." 

Aunt Priscilla winked hard and subsided. A little 
orphan girl well, Cousin Winthrop would be a good 
father to her. Perhaps no one would ever be quite ten 
der enough for her mother. 

Everybody went home pleased. Yet nowadays such a 
family party would have been dull and formal, with no 
new books and theaters and plays and tennis and golf 
to talk about, and the last ball game, perhaps. There 
had been a kind of gracious courtesy in inquiries about 
each other's families a true sympathy for the deaths and 
misfortunes, a kindly pleasure in the successes, a con 
gratulation for the younger members of the family grow 
ing up, a little circling about religion and the recent 
rather broad doctrines the clergy were entertaining. For 
it was a time of ferment when the five strong points of 
Calvinism were being severely shaken, and the doctrine 
of election assaulted by the doctrine that, since Christ 
died for all, all might in some mysterious manner share 
the benefit without being ruled out by their neighbors. 

Winthrop Adams would hardly have dreamed that the 
presence of a little girl in the house was stirring every 
pulse in an unwonted fashion. He had brooded over 
books so long; now he took to nature and saw 
many things through the child's fresh, joyous sight. He 
brushed up his stories of half-forgotten knowledge for 
her; he recalled his boyhood's lore of birds and squirrels, 
bees and butterflies, and began to feast anew on the 
beauty of the world and all things in their season. 

It is true, in those days knowledge and literature 
were not widely diffused. A book or two of ser 
mons, the " Pilgrim's Progress," perhaps " Fox's Book 
of Martyrs," and the Farmer's Almanac were the extent 
of literature in most families. Women had too much to 



A FREEDOM SUIT. 233 

do to spend their time reading except on Saturday even 
ing and after second service on the Sabbath then it 
must be religious reading. 

But Boston was beginning to stir in the education of 
its women. Mrs. Abigail Adams had said, " If we mean 
to have heroes, statesmen, and philosophers, we should 
have learned women." They started a circle of sociality 
that was to be above the newest pattern for a gown and 
the latest recipe for cake or preserves. A Mrs. Grant 
had written a volume called " Letters from the Moun 
tains," which they interested themselves in having repub- 
lished. Hannah Adams had written some valuable 
works, and was now braiding straw for a living; and Mrs. 
Josiah Quincy exerted herself to have so talented a 
woman placed above indigence. She also endeavored to 
have Miss Edgeworth's " Moral Tales " republished for 
young people. Scott was beginning to infuse new life 
with his wonderful tales, which could safely be put in the 
hands of younger readers. The first decade of the cen 
tury was laying a foundation for the grand work to be 
done later on. And with nearly every vessel, or with the 
travelers from abroad, would come some new books from 
England. Though they were dear, yet there were a few 
" foolish " people who liked a book better than several 
dollars added to their savings. 

Warren's freedom suit and his freedom party inter 
ested Doris a great deal. Since Betty's return there had 
been several evening companies, with the parlor opened 
and the cake and lemonade set out on the table instead of 
being passed around. Betty and Jane Morse were fast 
friends. They went " uptown " of an afternoon and had 
a promenade, with now and then a nod from some of the 
quality. Betty was very much elated when Gary Adams 
walked home with her one afternoon and planned about 
the party. He would ask three of the young fellows, and 



234 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

with himself they would give some college songs. He 
knew Miss Morse's cousin, Morris Winslow, very well 
he met him quite frequently at the Royalls'. Indeed, 
Gary knew he was a warm admirer of Isabel Royall. 

After all, the much-talked-of suit was only a best Sun 
day suit of black broadcloth. Doris looked disap 
pointed. 

" Did you expect I would have red and white stripes 
down the sides and blue stars all over the coat?" Warren 
asked teasingly. "And an eagle on the buttons? I am 
afraid then I should be impressed and taken out to sea." 

" Betty," she said afterward, " will you have a freedom 
suit when you are twenty-one. And must it be a black 
gown?" 

" I think they never give girls that," answered Betty 
laughingly. " Theirs is a wedding gown. Though 
after you are twenty-one, if you go anywhere and earn 
money, you can keep it for yourself. Your parents can 
not claim it." 

Warren had a holiday. His father said he did not 
want to see him near the store all day long. He went 
over to Uncle Win's, who was just having some late 
cherries picked to grace the feast, and he was asked into 
the library, where Uncle Win made him a very pleasant 
little birthday speech and gave him a silver watch to re 
member the occasion by. Warren was so surprised he 
hardly knew how to thank him. 

Betty was sorry there could be no dancing at the party, 
especially as Mr. Winslow had offered black Joe. But 
mother would be so opposed they did not even sug 
gest it. 

The young people began to gather about seven. 
They congratulated the hero of the occasion, and one 
young fellow recited some amusing verses. They played 
games and forfeits and had a merry time. The Cam- 



A FREEDOM SUIT. 235 

bridge boys sang several beautiful songs, and others of 
the gay, rollicking order. The supper table looked very 
inviting, Betty thought. Altogether it was a great 
pleasure to the young people, who kept it up quite 
late, but then it was such a delightful summer night! 
Doris thought the singing the most beautiful part of all. 
Warren's great surprise occurred the next morning. 
There was a new sign up over the door in the place of 
the old weather-beaten one that his father had admitted 
was disgraceful. And on it in nice fresh lettering was: 



P. LEVERETT & SON. 



" Oh, father! " was all he could say for a moment. 

" Hollis was a good, steady boy I've been blest in my 
boys, and I thank God for it, so when Hollis was through 
with his trade, and had that good opportunity to go in 
business, I advanced him some money. He has been 
prospered and would have paid it back, but I told him 
to keep it for his part. This will be your offset to it. 
Cousin Winthrop is coming down presently, and Giles 
Thatcher, and we will have all the papers signed, so that 
if anything happens to me there will be no trouble. 
You've been a good son, Warren, and I hope you will 
make a good, honorable man." 

The tears sprang to Warren's eyes. He was very 
glad he had yielded some points to his father and ac 
cepted obedience as his due to be rendered cheerfully. 
For Mr. Leverett had never been an unreasonable man. 

Uncle Win congratulated him again. Betty and her 
mother went down in the afternoon to see the new sign. 
Aunt Priscilla thought it rather risky business, for being 
twenty-one didn't always bring good sense with it, and 



236 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

too much liberty was apt to spoil anyone with no more 
experience than Warren. 

Betty said Aunt Priscilla must have something to 
worry about, which was true enough. She had come to 
the Leveretts' to see how she could stand " being with 
out a home," as she phrased it. But she found herself 
quite feeble, and with a cough, and she admitted she 
never had quite gotten over the winter's cold which she 
took going to church that bitter Sunday. As just the 
right person to keep her house had not come to hand, 
and as it really was cheaper to live this way, and gave one 
a secure feeling in case of illness, she thought it best to 
go on. Elizabeth Leverett made her feel very much at 
home. She could go down in the kitchen and do a bit of 
work when she wanted to, she could weed a little out in 
the garden, she could mend and knit and pass away the 
time, and it was a pleasure to have someone to converse 
with, to argue with. 

She had been in great trouble at first about black 
Polly. That she had really entertained the thought of 
getting rid of her in a helpless old age seemed a great sin 
now. 

" And the poor old thing had been so faithful until she 
began to lose her memory. How could I have resolved 
to do such a thing ! " she would exclaim. 

" You never did resolve to do it, Aunt Priscilla," Mr. 
Leverett said one day. " I am quite sure you could not 
have done it when it came to the pinch. It was one of 
the temptations only." 

" But I never struggled against it. That is what 
troubles me." 

" God knew just how it would end. He did not mean 
the poor creature to become a trouble to anyone. If he 
had wanted to try you further, no doubt he would have 
done it. Now, why can't you accept the release as he 



A FREEDOM SUIT. 237 

sent it? It seems almost as if you couldn't resign your 
self to his wisdom." 

" You make religion so comfortable, Foster Leverett, 
that I hardly know whether to take it that way. It isn't 
the old-fashioned way in which I was brought up." 

" There was just one Doubting Thomas among the 
Twelve," he replied smilingly. 

There was little need of people going away for a sum 
mering then, though they did try to visit their relatives 
in the country places about. People came up from the 
more southern States for the cool breezes and the pleas 
ant excursions everywhere. There were delightful parties 
going out almost every day, to the islands lying off the 
city, to the little towns farther away, to some places 
where it was necessary to remain all night. Madam 
Royall insisted upon taking Doris with the girls for a 
week's excursion, and she had a happy time. Gary went 
to Plymouth to his aunt's, and was fascinated with sea 
going matters and the naval wars in progress. Josiah 
March was a stanch patriot, and said the thing would 
never be settled until we had taught England to let our 
men and our vessels alone. 

Only a few years before our commerce had extended 
over the world. Boston with her eighty wharves and 
quays, her merchants of shrewd and sound judgment, 
ability of a high order and comprehensive as well as 
authentic information at that time stood at the head of 
the maritime world. The West Indies, China, though 
Canton was the only port to which foreigners were ad 
mitted, and all the ports of Europe had been open to 
her. The coastwise trade was also enormous. From 
seventy to eighty sail of vessels had cleared in one day. 
Long Wharf, at the foot of State Street, was one of the 
most interesting and busy places. 

The treaty between France and America had agreed 



238 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

that " free bottoms made free ships," but during the wars 
of Napoleon this had been so abridged that trade was 
now practically destroyed. Then England had insisted 
upon the right of search, which left every ship at her 
mercy, and hundreds of our sailors were being taken 
prisoners. There was a great deal of war talk already. 
Trade was seriously disturbed. 

There was a very strong party opposed to war. What 
could so young a country, unprepared in every way, do? 
The government temporized tried various methods in 
the hope of averting the storm. 

People began to economize ; still there was a good deal 
of money in Boston. Pleasures took on a rather more 
economical aspect and grew simpler. But business was 
at a standstill. The Leveretts were among the first to 
suffer, but Mr. Leverett's equable temperament and 
serene philosophy kept his family from undue anxiety. 

" It's rather a hard beginning for you, my boy," he 
said, " but you will have years enough to recover. Only 
I sometimes wish it could come to a crisis and be over, 
so that we could begin again. It can never be quite as 
bad as the old war." 

Doris commenced school with the Chapman girls at 
Miss Parker's. Uncle Win had a great fancy for sending 
her to Mrs. Rowson. 

"Wait a year or so," counseled Madam Royall. 
" Children grow up fast enough without pushing them 
ahead. Little girlhood is the sweetest time of life for 
the elderly people, whatever it may be for the girls. I 
should like Helen and Eudora to stand still for a few 
years, and Doris is too perfect a little bud to be lured 
into blossoming. There is something unusual about the 
child." 

When anyone praised Doris, Uncle Win experienced 
a thrill of delight. 



A FREEDOM SUIT. 239 

Miss Parker's school was much more aristocratic than 
Mrs. Webb's. There were no boys and no very small 
children. Some of the accomplishments were taught. 
French, drawing and painting, and what was called the 
" use of the globe," which meant a large globe with all 
the countries of the world upon it, arranged to turn 
around on an axis. This was a new thing. Doris was 
quite fascinated by it, and when she found the North Sea 
and the Devonshire coast and the " Wash " the girls 
looked on eagerly and straightway she became a heroine. 

But one unlucky recess when she had won in the game 
of graces a girl said : 

"I don't care! That isn't anything! We beat your 
old English in the Revolutionary War, and if there's an 
other war we'll beat you again. My father says so. I 
wouldn't be English for all the gold on the Guinea 
coast! " 

" I am not English," Doris protested. " My father 
was born in this very Boston. And I was born in 
France." 

" Well, the French are just as bad. They are not to 
be depended upon. You are a mean little foreign girl, 
and I shall not speak to you again, there now ! " 

Doris looked very sober. Helen Chapman comforted 
her and said Faith Dunscomb was not worth minding. 

She told it over to Uncle Win that evening. 

" I suppose I can never be a real Boston girl," she said 
sorrowfully. 

" I think you are a pretty good one now, and of good 
old Boston stock," he replied smilingly. " Sometime 
you will be proud that you came from the other Boston. 
Oddly enough most of us came from England in the be 
ginning. And the Faneuils came from France, and they 
are proud enough of their old Huguenot blood." 

She had been to Faneuil Hall and the Market with 



240 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

Uncle Winthrop. They raised all their vegetables and 
fruit, unless it was something quite rare, and Cato did 
the family marketing. 

Only a few years before the Market had been enlarged 
and improved. Fifty years earlier the building had 
burned down and been replaced, but even the old building 
had been identified with liberty of thought, and had a well- 
known portrait painter of that day, John Smibert, for its 
architect. In the later improvements it had been much 
enlarged, and the beautiful open arches of the ground 
floor were closed by doors and windows, which rendered 
it less picturesque. It was the marketplace par excel 
lence then, as Quincy Market came in with the enterprise 
of the real city. But even then it rejoiced in the appel 
lation of " The Cradle of Liberty," and the hall over the 
market-space was used for political gatherings. 

Huckster and market wagons from the country farms 
congregated in Dock Square. The mornings were the 
most interesting time for a visit. The " quality " came 
in their carriages with their servant man to run to and 
fro; or some young lady on horseback rode up through 
the busy throng to leave an order, and then the women 
whose servant carried a basket, or those having no serv 
ant carried their own baskets, and who went about cheap 
ening everything. 

So Doris was quite comforted to know that Peter 
Faneuil, who was held in such esteem, had not even been 
born in Boston, and was of French extraction. 

But girls soon get over their tiffs and disputes. Play 
is the great leveler. Then Doris was so obliging about 
the French exercises that the girls could not stay away 
very long at a time. 

Miss Parker's typified the conventional idea of a 
girl's education prevalent at that time: that ft should 
be largely accomplishment. So Doris was allowed 



A FREEDOM SUIT. 241 

considerable latitude in the commoner branches. Mrs. 
Webb had been exacting in the few things she taught, 
especially arithmetic. And Uncle Win admitted to him 
self that Doris had a poor head for figures. When she 
came to fractions it was heartrending. Common mul 
tiples and least and greatest common divisors had such a 
way of getting mixed up in her brain, that he felt very 
sorry for her. 

She brought over Betty's book in which all her sums 
in the more difficult rules had been worked out and 
copied beautifully. There were banking and equation of 
payments and all the " roots " and progression and alli 
gation and mensuration. 

" I don't know what good they will really be to Betty," 
said Uncle Win gravely. Then, as his face relaxed into 
a half-smile, he added : " Perhaps Mary Manning's fifty 
pairs of stockings she had when she was married may be 
more useful. Betty has a good head and " twinkling 
feet." Did you know a poet said that? And another 
one wrote: 

" ' Her feet beneath her petticoat, 
Like little mice stole in and out 

As if they feared the light ; 
But, oh, she dances such a way ! 
No sun upon an Easter day 
Is half so fair a sight. ' " 

"Oh, Uncle Win, that's just delightful! Did your 
poet write any more such dainty things, and can I read 
them? Betty would just go wild over that." 

" Yes, I will find it for you. And we won't worry 
now about the hard knots over in the back of the arith 
metic." 

" Nor about the stockings. Miss Isabel is knitting 
some beautiful silk ones, blossom color. 

Ladies and girls danced in slippers then and wore 



242 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

them for evening company, and stockings were quite a 
feature in attire. 

Uncle Win was too indulgent, of course. Miss 
Recompense said she had never known a girl to be 
brought up just that way, and shook her head doubtfully. 

Early in the new year an event happened, or rather the 
tidings came to them that seemed to have a bearing on 
both of these points. An old sea captain one day 
brought a curious oaken chest, brass bound, and with 
three brass initials on the top. The key, which was tied 
up in a small leathern bag, and a letter stowed away in 
an enormous well-worn wallet, he delivered to " Mr. 
Winthrop Adams, Esq." 

It contained an unfinished letter from Miss Arabella, 
beginning " Dear and Honored Sir," and another from 
the borough justice. Miss Arabella was dead. The 
care of her sister had worn her so much that she had 
dropped into a gentle decline, and knowing herself near 
the end had packed the chest with some table linen that 
belonged to the mother of Doris, some clothing, two 
dresses of her own, several petticoats, two pairs of satin 
slippers she had worn in her youth and outgrown, and 
six pairs of silk stockings. Doris would grow into them 
all presently. 

Then inclosed was a bank note for one hundred 
pounds sterling, and much love and fond remembrances. 

The other note announced the death of Miss Arabella 
Sophia Roulstone, aged eighty-one years and three 
months, and the time of her burial. Her will had been 
read and the bequests were being paid. Mr. Millington 
requested a release before a notary, and an acknowledg 
ment of the safe arrival of the goods and the legacy, to be 
returned by the captain. 

Mr. Adams went out with the captain and attended to 
the business. 



A SUMMER IN BOSTON. 243 

Doris had a little cry over Miss Arabella. It did not 
seem as if she could be eighty years old. She could re 
call the sweet, placid face under the snowy cap, and 
almost hear the soft voice. 

" That is quite a legacy," said Uncle Win. " Doris, 
can you compute it in dollars ? " 

We had come to have a currency of our own " deci 
mal " it was called, because computed by tens. 

We still reckoned a good deal in pounds, shillings, and 
pence, but ours were not pounds sterling. 

Doris considered and knit her delicate brows. Then 
a soft light illumined her face. 

"Why, Uncle Win, it is five hundred dollars! Isn't 
that a great deal of money for a little girl like me? And 
must it not be saved up some way? " 

" Yes, I think for your wedding day." 

" And then suppose I should not get married? " 



CHAPTER XVI. 

A SUMMER IN BOSTON. 

'TTHE Leveretts rejoiced heartily over Doris' good for- 
* tune. Aunt Priscilla began to trouble herself again 
about her will. She had taken the usual autumnal cold, 
but recovered from it with good nursing. Certainly 
Elizabeth Leverett was very kind. Aunt Priscilla had 
eased up Betty while her mother spent a fortnight at 
Salem, helping with the fall sewing and making com 
fortables. And this time she brought home little Ruth, 
who was thin and peevish, and who had not gotten well 
over the measles, that had affected her eyes badly. Ruth 
was past four. 

" I wish Mary did not take life so hard," said Mrs. 



244 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

Leverett with a sigh. " They have been buying a new 
twenty-acre pasture lot and two new cows, and it is just 
drive all the time. That poor little Elizabeth will be all 
worn out before she is grown up. And Ruth wouldn't 
have lived the winter through there." 

Ruth was extremely troublesome at first. But grand 
mothers have a soothing art, and after a few weeks she 
began to improve. The visits of Doris fairly transported 
her, and she amused grandpa by asking every morning 
" if Doris would come to-day," having implicit faith in 
his knowledge of everything. 

Aunt Priscilla counted on the visits as well. She kept 
her room a good deal. Ruth's chatter disturbed her. 
Pattern children brought up on the strictest rules did not 
seem quite so agreeable to her as the little flower grow 
ing up in its own sweetness. 

Betty used to walk a short distance home with her, as 
she declared it was the only chance she had for a bit of 
Doris. She was very fond of hearing about the Royalls, 
and now Miss Isabel's engagement to Mr. Morris Win- 
slow was announced. 

Warren declared Jane was quite " top-loftical " about 
it. She had been introduced to Miss Isabel at an even 
ing company, and then they had met at Thayer's dry 
goods store, where she and Mrs. Chapman had been 
shopping, and had quite a little chat. They bowed in the 
street, and Jane was much pleased at the prospect of 
being indirectly related. 

But Betty had taken tea at Uncle Winthrop's with 
Miss Alice Royall, who had come over with the two 
little girls to return some of the visits Doris had made. 
The girls fell in love with bright, versatile Betty, and 
Alice was much interested in her visit to Hartford, and 
thought her quite charming. 

Then it was quite fascinating to compare notes about 



A SUMMER IN BOSTON. 245 

Mr. Adams with one of his own kin. Alice made no 
secret of her admiration for him ; the whole family joined 
in, for that matter. Young girls could be a little free and 
friendly with elderly gentlemen without exciting com 
ment or having to be so precise. 

When Jane said " Cousin Morris told me such or such 
a thing," Betty was delighted to reply, " Yes, Doris was 
speaking of it." The girls were the best of friends, but 
this half-unconscious rivalry was natural. 

Mrs. Leverett had no objections to the intimacy now. 
Betty was older and more sensible, and now she was 
really a young lady receiving invitations, and going out 
to walk or to shop with the girls. For hard as the times 
were, a little finery had to be bought, or a gown now and 
then. 

Mrs. King had not gone to New York, though her 
husband had been there on business. She would .have 
been very glad of Betty's company; but with little Ruth 
and Aunt Priscilla, Betty felt she ought not leave her 
mother. And, then, she was having a young girl's good 
time at home. 

Mrs. Leverett half wished Jane might "fancy Warren." 
She was a smart, attractive, and withal sensible girl. But 
Warren was not thinking of girls just now, or of marry 
ing. The debating society was a source of great interest 
and nearly every " talk " turned on some aspect of the 
possible war. His singing class occupied him one even 
ing, and one evening was devoted to dancing. He 
liked Jane very much in a friendly fashion, and they went 
on calling each other by their first names, but if he hap 
pened to drop in there was almost sure to be other com 
pany. 

The " Son " on the business sign over the doorway 
gave him a great sense of responsibility, especially now 
when everything was so dull, and money, as people said, 



246 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

" came like drawing teeth," a painful enough process in 
those days. 

Finally Miss Isabel Royall's wedding day was set for 
early in June. The shopping was quite an undertaking. 
There were Thayer's dry-goods store and Daniel Simp 
son's and Mr. Bromfield's, the greater and the lesser 
shops on Washington and School streets. It was quite 
a risk now ordering things from abroad, vessels were 
interfered with so much. But there were China silks and 
Canton crape, a beautiful material, and French and 
English goods that escaped the enemy ; so if you had the 
money you could find enough for an extensive wedding 
outfit. At home we had also begun to make some very 
nice woolen goods. 

May came out full of bloom and beauty. Such a 
shower of blossoms from cherry, peach, pear, and apple 
would be difficult now to imagine. For almost every 
house had a yard or a garden. Colonnade Row was 
among the earliest places to be built up compactly 
of brick and was considered very handsome for the 
time. 

But people strolled around then to see the beautiful 
unfolding of nature. There was the old Hancock House 
on Beacon Street. The old hero had gone his way, and 
his wife was now Madam Scott, and lived in the same 
house, and though the garden and nursery had been 
shorn of much of their glory, there were numerous for 
eign trees that were curiously beautiful, and people used 
to make at least one pilgrimage to see these immense 
mulberry trees in bloom. 

The old Bowdoin garden was another remarkable 
place, and the air around was sweet for weeks with the 
bloom of fruit trees and later on the grapes that were 
raised in great profusion. You sometimes saw elegant 
old Madam Bowdoin walking up and down the garden 



A SUMMER IN BOSTON. 247 

paths and the grandchildren skipping rope or playing 
tag. 

But Summer Street, with its crown of beauty, held its 
head as high as any of its neighbors. 

" I don't see why May should be considered unlucky 
for weddings," Isabel protested. " I should like to be 
married in a bower of apple blossoms." 

"But isn't a bower of roses as beautiful?" 

"And the snow of the cherries and pears! Think of 
it fragrant snow! " 

But Isabel gave parties to her friends, and they took 
tea out under the great apple tree and were snowed on 
with every soft wave of wind. 

It was not necessary then to go into seclusion. The 
bride-elect took pleasure in showing her gowns and her 
finery to her dearest friends. She was to be married in 
grandmother's brocade. Her own mother had it lent to 
her for the occasion. It was very handsome and could 
almost " stand alone." There were great flowers that 
looked as if they were embroidered on it, and now it had 
assumed an ivory tint. Two breadths had been taken 
out of the skirt, people were so slim at present. But the 
court train was left. The bertha, as we should call it 
now, was as a cobweb, and the lace from the puff sleeve 
falling over the arm of the same elegant material. 

It was good luck to borrow something to be married 
in, and good luck to have something old as well as the 
something new. 

Morris Winslow had been quite a beau about town. 
He was thirty now, ten years older than Isabel. He had 
a big house over in Dorchester and almost a farm. He 
owned another in Boston, where a tavern of the higher 
sort was kept and rooms rented to bachelors. He had 
an apartment here and kept his servant Joe and his hand 
some team, besides his saddle horse. He was rather 



248 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

gay, but of good moral character. No one else would 
have been accepted as a lover at the Royalls'. 

Jane was invited to one of the teas. People had not 
come to calling them " Dove " parties yet, nor had break 
fasts or luncheon parties come in vogue for such occa 
sions. There were about a dozen girls. They in 
spected the wedding outfit, they played graces, they sang 
songs, and had tea in Madam Royall's old china that had 
come to America almost a hundred years before. 

Afterward several young gentlemen called, and they 
walked up and down in the moonlight. A young lady 
could invite her own escort, especially if she was " keep 
ing company." Sometimes the mothers sent a servant 
to fetch home their daughters. 

Of course Jane had an invitation to the wedding. 
Alice and a friend were to be bridesmaids, and the chil 
dren were to be gowned in simple white muslin, with 
bows and streamers of pink satin ribbon and strew roses 
in the bride's path. They were flower maidens. Dorcas 
Payne was asked, and Madam Royall begged Mr. 
Adams to allow his niece to join them. They would all 
take it as a great favor. 

"The idea!" cried Aunt Priscilla; "and she no rela 
tion! If the queen was to come to Boston I dare say 
Doris Adams would be asked to turn out to meet her! 
Well, I hope her pretty face won't ever get her into 
trouble." 

It was a beautiful wedding, everybody said. The 
great rooms and the halls were full of guests, but they 
kept a way open for the bride, who came downstairs on 
her lover's arm, and he looked very proud and manly. 
The bridesmaids and groomsmen stood one couple at 
each side. The little girls strewed their flowers and then 
stood in a circle, and the bride swept gracefully to the 
open space and turned to face the guests. The maid 



A SUMMER IN BOSTON. 249 

was a little excited when she pulled off the bride's glove, 
but all went well, and Isabel Royall was at her very best. 

While the kissing and congratulations were going on, 
four violins struck up melodious strains. It was just six 
o'clock then. The bride and groom stood for a while in 
the center of the room, then marched around and smiled 
and talked, and finally went out to the dining room, 
where the feast was spread, and where the bride had to 
cut the cake. 

Gary Adams was among the young people. He was 
a great favorite with Alice, and a welcome guest, if he 
did not come quite as often as his father. 

One of the prettiest things afterward was the minuet 
danced by the four little girls, and after that two or three 
cotillions were formed. The bride danced with both of 
the groomsmen, and the new husband with both of the 
bridesmaids. Then their duty was done. 

They were to drive over to Dorchester that night, so 
presently they started. Two or three old slippers were 
thrown for good luck. Several of the younger men were 
quite nonplused at this arrangement, for they had 
planned some rather rough fun in a serenade, thinking 
the bridal couple would stay in town. 

There were some amusements, jesting and laughter, 
some card-playing and health-drinking among the elders. 
The guests congratulated Madam Royall nearly as much 
as they had the bride. Then one after another came and 
bade her good-night, and took away their parcel of wed 
ding cake to dream on. 

" Oh," cried Doris on the way home, the night was 
so pleasant they were walking, " oh, wasn't it splendid! 
I wish Betty could have been there. Gary, how old must 
you be before you can get married?" 

" Well I should have to look up a girl." 

" Oh, take Miss Alice. She likes you ever so much 



250 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

I heard her say so. But you haven't any house like Mr. 
Winslow. Uncle Win, couldn't he bring her home to 
live with us?" 

Gary's cheeks were in a red flame. Uncle Win 
laughed. 

" My dear," he began, " a young man must have some 
business or some money to take care of his wife. She 
wouldn't like to be dependent on his relatives. Gary is 
going to study law, which will take some years, then he 
must get established, and so we will have to wait a long 
while. He is too young. Mr. Winslow is thirty; Gary 
isn't twenty yet." 

"Oh, dear! Well, perhaps Betty will get married. 
The girl doesn't have to be so old? " 

" No," said Uncle Win. 

Betty came over the next morning to spend the day 
and help Miss Recompense to distill. She wanted to 
hear the first account from Doris and Uncle Win, to 
take off the edge of Jane's triumphant news. 

They made rose water and a concoction from the spice 
pinks. Then they preserved cherries. Uncle Win took 
them driving toward night and said some day they would 
go over to Dorchester. He had several friends there. 

The next excitement for Doris was the college com 
mencement. Mr. Adams was disappointed that his son 
should not stand at the head of almost everything. He 
had taken one prize and made some excellent examina 
tions, but there were many ranking as high and some 
higher. 

There were no ball games, no college regattas to share 
honors then. Not that these things were tabooed. 
There were some splendid rowing matches and games, 
but then young men had a desire to stand high intel 
lectually. 

A long while before Judge Sewall had expressed his 



A SUMMER IN BOSTON. 251 

disapproval of the excesses at dinners, the wine-drinking 
and conviviality, and had set Friday for commencement 
so that there would be less time for frolicking. The war, 
with its long train of economies, and the greater serious 
ness of life in general, had tempered all things, but there 
was gayety enough now, with dinners given to the prize 
winners and a very general jollification. 

Doris went with Uncle Winthrop. Commencement 
was one of the great occasions of the year. All the ora 
tions were in Latin, and the young men might have been 
haranguing a Roman army, so vigorous were they. 
Many of the graduates were very young; boys really 
studied at that time. 

The remainder of the day and the one following were 
given over to festivities. Booths were everywhere on 
the ground; colors flying, flowers wreathed in every 
fashion, and so much merriment that they quite needed 
Judge Sewall back again to restrain the excesses. 

Mr. Adams and Doris went to dine at the Cragie 
House, and Doris would have felt quite lost among 
judges and professors but for Miss Cragie, who took her 
in charge. When they went home in the early evening 
the shouts and songs and boisterousness seemed like a 
perfect orgy. 

Someone has said, with a kind of dry wit, " Wherever 
an Englishman goes courts and litigation are sure to pre 
vail." Certainly our New England forefathers, who set 
out with the highest aims, soon found it necessary to 
establish law courts. In the early days every man 
pleaded his own cause, and was especially versed in the 
" quirks of the law." Jeremy Gridley, a graduate of 
Harvard, interested himself in forming a law club in the 
early part of the previous century to pursue the study 
enough " to keep out of the briars." And to Justice 
Dana is ascribed the credit of administering to Mr. Sec- 



252 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

retary Oliver, standing under the Liberty Tree in a 
great assemblage of angry townspeople, an oath that he 
would take no measures to enforce the odius Stamp Act 
of the British Parliament or distribute it among the 
people. 

And now the bar had a rank of its own, and Winthrop 
Adams had a strong desire to see his son one of the 
shining lights in the profession. Gary had a fine voice 
and was a good speaker. More than once he had dis 
tinguished himself in an argument at some of the de 
bates. To be admitted to the office of Governor Gore 
was considered a high honor then, and this Mr. Adams 
gained for his son. Gary had another vague dream, but 
parental authority in well-bred families was not to be 
disputed at that period, and Gary acquiesced in his 
father's decision, since he knew his own must bring 
about much discussion and probably a refusal. 

Mrs. King came to visit her mother this summer. 
She left all her children at home, as she wanted to visit 
round, and was afraid they might be an annoyance to 
Aunt Priscilla. Little Ruth had gone home very much 
improved, her eyes quite restored. 

Uncle Winthrop enjoyed Mrs. King's society very 
much. She was intelligent and had cultivated her natu 
ral abilities, she also had a certain society suavity that 
made her an agreeable companion. Doris thought her 
a good deal like Betty, she was so pleasant and ready for 
all kinds of enjoyment. Aunt Priscilla considered her 
very frivolous, and there was so much going and coming 
that she wondered Elizabeth did not get crazy over it. 

They were to remove to New York in the fall, Mr. 
King having perfected his business arrangements. So 
Betty would have her winter in the gay city after all. 

There were many delightful excursions with pleasure 
parties up and down the bay. The Embargo had been 



A SUMMER IN BOSTON. 253 

repealed, and the sails of merchant ships were again 
whitening the harbor, and business people breathed more 
freely. 

There were Castle Island, with its fortifications and its 
waving flag, and queer old dreary-looking Noddle's 
Island, also little towns and settlements where one 
could spend a day delightfully. Every place, it seemed 
to Doris, had some queer, interesting story, and she 
possessed an insatiable appetite for them. There was 
the great beautiful sweep of Boston Bay, with its inlets 
running around the towns and its green islands every 
where places that had been famous and had suffered in 
the war, and were soon to suffer again. 

Mrs. King had a friend at Hingham, and one day they 
went there in a sort of family party. Uncle Winthrop 
obtained a carriage and drove them around. It was 
still famous for its wooden-ware factories, and Uncle 
Win said in the time of Governor Andros, when money 
was scarce among the early settlers, Hingham had paid 
its taxes in milk pails, but they decided the taxes could 
not have been very high, or the fame of the milk pails 
must have been very great. 

Mrs. Gerry said in the early season forget-me-nots 
grew wild all about, and the ground was blue with them. 

" Oh, Uncle Win, let us come and see them next year," 
cried Doris. 

Then they hunted up the old church that had been 
nearly rent asunder by the bringing in of a bass viol to 
assist the singers. Party spirit had run very high. The 
musical people had quoted the harps and sacbuts of King 
David's time, the trumpets and cymbals. At last the big 
bass viol won the victory and was there. And the hymn 
was: 

" Oh, may my heart in tune be found, 
Like David's harp of solemn sound." 



254 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

But the old minister was not to be outdone. The hymn 
was lined off in this fashion : 

" Oh, may my heart go diddle, diddle, 
Like Uncle David's sacred fiddle." 

There were still a great many people opposed to in 
strumental music and who could see no reverence in the 
organ's solemn sound. 

Uncle Winthrop smiled over the story, and Betty said 
it would do to tell to Aunt Priscilla. 

Betty begged that they might take Doris to Salem with 
them. Doris thought she should like to see the smart 
little Elizabeth, who was like a woman already, and her 
old playfellow James, as well as Ruth, who seemed to her 
hardly beyond babyhood. And there were all the weird 
old stories she had read some of them in Cotton 
Mather's " Magnalia," and begged others from Miss 
Recompense, who did not quite know whether she be 
lieved them or not, but she said emphatically that people 
had been mistaken and there was no such thing as 
witches. 

" A whole week ! " said Uncle Winthrop. " Whatever 
shall I do without a little girl that length of time? " 

" But you have Gary now," she returned archly. 

Gary was a good deal occupied with young friends and 
college associates. Now and then he went over to 
Charlestown and stayed all night with one of his 
chums. 

" I suppose I ought to learn how it will be without 
you when you want to go away in real earnest." 

" I am never going away." 

" Suppose Mrs. King should invite you to New York? 
She has some little girls." 

" You might like to go," she returned with a touch of 
hesitation. 



A SUMMER IN BOSTON. 255 

"To see the little girls? " smilingly. 

" To see a great city. Do you suppose they are very 
queer and Dutch ? " 

He laughed at that. 

" But the Dutch people went there and settled, just as 
the Puritans came here. And I think I like the Dutch 
because they have such a merry time at Christmas. We 
read about them in history at school." 

" And then the English came, you know. I think now 
there is not much that would suggest Holland. I have 
been there." 

Then Doris was eager to know what it was like, and 
Uncle Winthrop was interested in telling her. They for 
got all about Salem at least, Doris did until she was 
going to bed. 

" If you do go you must be very careful a witch does 
not catch you, for I couldn't spare my little girl alto 
gether." 

" Uncle Winthrop, I am going to stay with you always. 
When Miss Recompense gets real old and cannot look 
after things I shall be your housekeeper." 

" When Miss Recompense reaches old age I am afraid 
I shall be quaking for very fear." 

" But it takes a long while for people to get very old," 
she returned decisively. 

Betty came over the next day to tell her they would 
start on Thursday morning, and were going in a sloop to 
Marblehead with a friend of her father's, Captain 
Morton. 

It was almost like going to sea, Doris thought. They 
had to thread their way through the islands and round 
Winthrop Head. There was Grover's Cliff, and then 
they went out past Nahant into the broad, beautiful bay, 
where you could see the ocean. It seemed ages ago 
since she had crossed it. They kept quite in to the green 



256 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

shores and could see Lynn and Swampscott, then they 
rounded one more point and came to Marblehead, where 
Captain Morton stopped to unload his cargo, while they 
went on to Salem. 

At the old dock they were met by a big boy and a 
country wagon. This was Foster Manning, the eldest 
grandson of the family. 

" Oh," cried Betty in amazement, " how you have 
grown! It is Foster? " 

He smiled and blushed under the sunburn a thin, 
angular boy, tall for his age, with rather large features 
and light-brown hair with tawny streaks in it. But his 
gray-blue eyes were bright and honest-looking. 

" Yes, 'm," staring at the others, for he had at the mo 
ment forgotten his aunt's looks. 

Betty introduced them. 

" I should not have known you," said Aunt Electa. 
" But boys change a good deal in two years or so." 

They were helped in the wagon, more by Betty than 
Foster, who was evidently very bashful. They drove up 
past the old Court House, through the main part of the 
town, which even then presented a thriving appearance 
with its home industries. But the seaport trade had been 
sadly interfered with by the rumors and apprehensions of 
war. At that time it was quaint and country-looking, 
with few pretensions to architectural beauty. There was 
old Gallows Hill at one end, with its haunting stories of 
witchcraft days. 

The irregular road wandered out to the farming dis 
tricts. Many small towns had been set off from the 
original Salem in the century before, and the boundaries 
were marked mostly by the farms. 

Betty inquired after everybody, but most of the an 
swers were " Yes, 'm " and " No, 'm." When they came 
in sight of the house Mrs. Manning and little Ruth ran 



A SUMMER IN BOSTON. 257 

out to welcome the guests, followed by Elizabeth, who 
was almost as good as a woman. 

The house itself was a plain two-story with the hall 
door in the middle and a window on each side. The 
roof had a rather steep pitch in front with overhanging 
eaves. From this pitch it wandered off in a slow curve 
at the back and seemed stretched out to cover the kitchen 
and the sheds. 

A grassy plot in front was divided by a trodden path. 
On one side of the small stoop was a great patch of holly 
hocks that were tolerated because they needed no special 
care. Mrs. Manning had no time to waste upon flowers. 
The aspect was neat enough, but rather dreary, as Doris 
contrasted it with the bloom at home. 

But the greetings were cordial, only Mrs. Manning 
asked Betty " If she had been waiting for someone to 
come and show her the way? " Ruth ran to Doris at 
once and caught her round the waist, nestling her head 
fondly on the bosom of the guest. Elizabeth stood awk 
wardly distant, and only stared when Betty presented her 
to Doris. 

They were ushered into the first room, which was the 
guest chamber. The floor was painted, and in summer 
the rugs were put away. A large bedstead with faded 
chintz hangings, a bureau, a table, and two chairs com 
pleted the furniture. The ornaments were two brass 
candlesticks and a snuffers tray on the high mantel. 

Here they took off their hats and laid down their 
budgets, and then went through to mother's room, where 
there were a bed and a cradle, a bureau, a big chest, a 
table piled up with work, a smaller candlestand, and a 
curious old desk. Next to this was the living-room, 
where the main work of life went on. Beyond this were 
a kitchen and some sheds. 

Baby Hester sat on the floor and looked amazed at 



258 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

the irruption, then began to whimper. Her mother 
hushed her up sharply, and she crept out to the living- 
room. 

" We may as well all go out," said Mrs. Manning. " I 
must see about supper, for that creature we have doesn't 
know when the kettle boils," and she led the way. 

Elizabeth began to spread the tea table. A youngish 
woman was working in the kitchen. The Mannings had 
taken one of the town's poor, who at this period were 
farmed out. Sarah Lewis was not mentally bright, and 
required close watching, which she certainly received at 
the Mannings'. Doris stood by the window with Ruth, 
until the baby cried, when her mother told her to take 
Hester out in the kitchen and give her some supper and 
put her to bed. And then Doris could do nothing but 
watch Elizabeth while the elders discussed family affairs, 
the conversation a good deal interrupted by rather sharp 
orders to Sarah in the kitchen, and some not quite so 
sharp to Elizabeth. 

Supper was all on the table when the men came in. 
There were Mr. Manning, Foster and James, and two 
hired men. 

" You must wait, James," said his mother " you and 
Elizabeth." 

The guests were ranged at one end of the table, the 
hired men and Foster at the other. Elizabeth took some 
knitting and sat down by the window. The two younger 
children remained in the kitchen. 

"Doris was curiously interested, though she felt a little 
strange. Her eyes wandered to Elizabeth, and met the 
other eyes, as curious as hers. Elizabeth had straight 
light hair, cut square across the neck, and across her 
forehead in what we should call a bang. " It was time 
to let it grow long," her mother admitted, " but it was 
such a bother, falling in her eyes." Her frock, whatever 



A SUMMER IN BOSTON. 259 

color it had been, was now faded to a hopeless, depressing 
gray, and her brown gingham apron tied at the waist be 
trayed the result of many washings. She was thin and 
pale, too, and tired-looking. Times had not been good, 
and some of the crops were not turning out well, so every 
nerve had to be strained to pay for the new lot, in order 
that the interest on the amount should not eat up every 
thing. 

Afterward the men went to look to the cattle, and Mrs. 
Manning, when she had given orders a while in the 
kitchen, took her guests out on the front porch. She sat 
and knit as she talked to them, as the moon was shining 
and gave her light enough to see. 

When the old clock struck nine, Mr. Manning came 
through the hall and stood in the doorway. 

" Be you goin' to sit up all night, mother? " he in 
quired. 

" Dear, no. And I expect you're all tired. We're up 
so early in the morning here that we go to bed early. 
And I was thinking Ruth needn't have gone upstairs, 
and Doris could have slept with Elizabeth " 

" I'll go upstairs with Doris, and 'Lecty may have the 
room to herself," exclaimed Betty. 

Grandmother Manning had a room downstairs, back 
of the parlor, and one of the large rooms upstairs, that 
the family had the privilege of using, though it was 
stored nearly full with a motley collection of articles and 
furniture. This was her right in the house left by her 
husband. But she spent most of her time between her 
daughter at Danvers and another in the heart of the 
town, where there were neighbors to look at, if nothing 
else. 

Doris peered in the corners of the room by the dim 
candlelight. 

" It's very queer," she said with a half-smile at Betty, 



260 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

glancing around. For there were lines across on which 
hung clothes and bags of dried herbs that gave the room 
an aromatic fragrance, and parcels in one corner piled 
almost up to the wall. But the space to the bed was 
clear, and there were a stand for the candle and two 
chairs. 

" The children are in the next room, and the boys and 
men sleep at the back. The other rooms have sloping 
roofs. And then there's a queer little garret. Grand 
mother Manning is real old, and some time Mary will 
have all the house to herself. Josiah bought out his 
sisters' share, and Mrs. Manning's runs only as long as 
she lives." 

" I shouldn't want to sleep with Elizabeth. I love 
you, Betty." 

Betty laughed wholesomely. " You will get ac 
quainted with her to-morrow," she said. 

Doris laid awake some time, wondering if she really 
liked visiting, and recalling the delightful Christmas 
visit at Uncle Winthrop's. The indefinable something 
that she came to understand was not only leisure and re 
finement, but the certain harmonious satisfactions that 
make up the keynote of life from whence melody diffuses 
itself, were wanting here. 

They had their breakfast by themselves the next morn 
ing. Friday was a busy day, but all the household ex 
cept the baby were astir at five, and often earlier. There 
were churning and the working of butter and packing it 
down for customers. Of course, June butter had the 
royal mark, but there were plenty of people glad to get 
any " grass " butter. 

Betty took Doris out for a walk and to show her what 
a farm was like. There was the herd of cows, and in a 
field by themselves the young ones from three months to 
a year. There were two pretty colts Mr. Manning was 



A SUMMER IN BOSTON. 261 

raising. And there was a flock of sheep on a stony 
pasture lot, with some long-legged, awkward-looking 
lambs who had outgrown their babyhood. Then they 
espied James weeding out the garden beds. 

Betty sat down on a stone at the edge of the fence and 
took out some needlework she carried around in her 
pocket. Doris stood patting down the soft earth with 
her foot. 

" Do you like to do that?" she asked presently. 

" No, I don't," in a short tone. 

" I think I should not either." 

" 'Taint the things you like, it's what has to be done," 
the boy flung out impatiently. " I'm not going to be a 
farmer. I just hate it. When I'm big enough I'm com 
ing to Boston." 

" When will you be big enough? " 

" Well when I'm twenty-one. You're of age then, 
you see, and your own master. But I might run away 
before that. Don't tell anyone that, Doris. Gewhilli- 
ker! didn't I have a splendid time at grandmother's that 
winter! I wish I could live there always. And grand- 
pop is just the nicest man I know! I just hate a farm." 

Doris felt very sorry for him. She thought she would 
not like to work that way with her bare hands. Miss 
Recompense always wore gloves when she gardened. 

" I'd like to be you, with nothing to do." 

That was a great admission. The winter at Uncle 
Leverett's he had rather despised girls. Cousin Sam was 
the one to be envied then. And it seemed to her that she 
kept quite busy at home, but it was a pleasant kind of 
business. 

She did not see Elizabeth until dinner time. James 
took the men's dinner out to the field. They could not 
spend the time to come in. And after dinner Betty har 
nessed the old mare Jinny, and took Electa, Doris, and 



262 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

little Ruth out driving. The sun had gone under a cloud 
and the breeze was blowing over from the ocean. Electa 
chose to see the old town, even if there were but few 
changes and trade had fallen off. Several slender- 
masted merchantmen were lying idly at the quays, half 
afraid to venture with a cargo lest they might fall into 
the hands of privateers. The stores too had a depressed 
aspect. Men sat outside gossiping in a languid sort of 
way, and here and there a woman was tending her baby 
on the porch or doing a bit of sewing. 

"What a sleepy old place!" said Mrs. King. "It 
would drive me to distraction." 

CHAPTER XVII. 

ANOTHER GIRL. 

C ATURDAY afternoon the work was finished up and 
^ the children washed. The supper was eaten early, 
and at sundown the Sabbath had begun. The parlor 
was opened, but the children were allowed out on the 
porch. Ruth sprang up a time or two rather impa 
tiently. 

" Sit still," said Elizabeth, " or you will have to go to 
bed at once." 

" Couldn't I take her a little walk? " asked Doris. 

" A walk! Why it is part of Sunday! " 

" But I walk on Sunday with Uncle Winthrop." 

" It's very wicked. We do walk to church, but that 
isn't anything for pleasure." 

" But uncle thinks one ought to be happy and joyous 
on Sunday. It is the day the Lord rose from the dead." 

" It's the Sabbath. And you are to remember the 
Sabbath to keep it holy." 

"What is the difference between Sabbath and Sun 
day?" 



ANOTHER GIRL. 263 

" There aint any," said James. " There's six days to 
work, and I wish there was two Sundays one in the 
middle of the week. The best time of all is Sunday 
night. You don't have to keep so very still, and you 
don't have to work neither." 

Elizabeth sighed. Then she said severely, " Do you 
know your catechism, James? " 

" Well I always have to study it Sunday morning," 
was the rather sullen reply. 

" Maybe you had better go in and look it over." 

" You never do want a fellow to take any comfort. 
Yes, I know it." 

" Ruth, if you are getting sleepy go to bed." 

Ruth had leaned her head down on Doris' shoulder. 

"She's wide awake," and Doris gave her a little squeeze 
that made her smile. She would have laughed outright 
but for fear. 

Elizabeth leaned her head against the door jamb. 

" You look so tired," said Doris pityingly. 

" I am tired through and through. I am always glad 
to have Saturday night come and no knitting or any 
thing. Don't you knit when you are home? " 

" I haven't knit much." Doris flushed up to the 
roots of her fair hair, remembering her unfortunate at 
tempts at achieving a stocking. 

" What do you do? " 

" Study, and read to Uncle Winthrop, and go to school 
and to writing school, and walk and take little journeys 
and drives and do drawing. Next year I shall learn to 
paint flowers." 

" But you do some kind of work? " 

" I keep my room in order and Uncle Win trusts me 
to dust his books. And I sew a little and make lace. 
But, you see, there is Miss Recompense and Dinah and 
Cato." 



264 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

"Oh, what a lot of help! What does Miss Recom 
pense do? " 

" She is the housekeeper." 

" Is Uncle Winthrop very rich? " 

" I I don't know." 

" But there are no children and boys to wear out their 
clothes and stockings. There's so much knitting to be 
done. I go to school in winter, but there is too much 
work in summer. Doris Adams, you are a lucky girl if 
your fortune doesn't spoil you." 

" Fortune! " exclaimed Doris in surprise. 

"Yes. I heard father talk about it. And all that 
from England! Then someone died in Boston and left 
you ever so much. I suppose you will be a grand lady! " 

" I'd like to be a lovely old lady like Madam Royall." 

" And who is she? " 

Doris was in the full tide of narration when Mrs. Man 
ning came to the hall door. She caught some descrip 
tion of a party. 

" Elizabeth, put Ruth to bed at once and go yourself. 
Doris, talking of parties isn't a very good preparation for 
tfie Sabbath. Elizabeth, when you say your prayers 
think of your sins and shortcomings for the week, and 
repent of them earnestly." 

Ruth had fallen asleep and gave a little whine. Her 
mother slapped her. 

" Hush, not a word. You deserve the same and more, 
Elizabeth! James, go in and study your catechism over 
three times, then go to bed." 

Doris sat alone on the doorstep, confused and amazed. 
She was quite sure now she did not like Mrs. Manning, 
and she felt very sorry for Elizabeth. Then Betty came 
out and told her some odd Salem stories. 

They all went to church Sabbath morning, in the old 
Puritan parlance. Doris found it hard to comprehend 



ANOTHER GIRL. 265 

the sermon. Many of the people from the farms brought 
their luncheons, and wandered about the graveyard or 
sat under the shady trees. At two the children were 
catechised, at three service began again. 

Mrs. King took Doris and Betty to dine with a friend 
of her youth, and then went back to the service out of 
respect to her sister and brother-in-law. Little Ruth fell 
asleep and was punished for it when she reached home. 
The children were all fractious and their mother scolded. 
When the sun went down there was a general sense of 
relief. The younger ones began to wander around. 
The two mothers sauntered off together, talking of 
matters they preferred not to have fall on the ears of 
small listeners. 

Betty attracted the boys. Foster could talk to her, 
though he was much afraid of girls in general. 

Doris and Elizabeth sat on the steps. Ruth was run 
ning small races with herself. 

" Would you rather go and walk? " inquired Elizabeth 
timidly. 

" Oh, no. Not if you like to sit still," cheerfully. 

" I just do. I'm always tired. You are so pretty, I 
was afraid of you at first. And you have such beautiful 
clothes. That blue ribbon on your hat is like a bit of 
the sky. And God made the sky." 

The voice died away in admiration. 

" That isn't my best hat," returned Doris simply. 
" Cousin Betty thought the damp of the ocean and run 
ning out in the dust would ruin it. It has some beautiful 
pink roses and ever so much gauzy stuff and a great bow 
of pink satin. Then I have a pink muslin frock with tiny 
green and brown sprigs all over it, and a great sash of 
the muslin that comes down to the hem. (The Chap 
man girls have satin ribbon sashes, but Miss Recom 
pense said she liked the muslin better." 



266 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

" Do you have to wear just what she says? " 

" Oh, no. Madam Royall chooses some things, and 
Betty. And Cousin King brought me an elegant sash, 
white, with flowers all over it. I have ever so many 
pretty things." 

" Oh, how proud you must feel ! " said the Puritan 
maid half enviously. 

" I don't know "hesitatingly. " I think I feel just 
nice, and that is all there is about it. Uncle Win likes 
what they get for me men can't buy clothes, you know, 
and if he is pleased and thinks I look well, that is the 
end of it." 

" Oh, how good it must feel to be happy just like that. 
But are you quite sure," lowering her voice to a touch 
of awe, " that you will not be punished in the next 
world?" 

" What for? Doesn't God mean us to be happy? " 

" Well not in this world, perhaps," answered the 
young theologian. " But you don't have anything in 
heaven except a white robe, and if you haven't had any 
pretty things in this world " 

" I wish I could give you some of mine." Doris 
slipped her soft warm hand over the other, beginning to 
grow bony and strained already. 

" They wouldn't do me any good," was the almost 
apathetical reply. " I only go to church, and niQther 
wouldn't let me wear them." 

11 Do you like to go to church ? " 

" I hate the long sermons and the prayers. Oh, that 
is dreadful wicked, isn't it? But I like to see the people 
and hear the talk, and they do have some new clothes; 
and the sitting still. When you've run and run all the 
week and are tired all over, it's just good to sit still. And 
it's different. I get so tired of the same things all the 



ANOTHER GIRL. 267 

time and the hurry. Do you know what I am going to 
do when I am a woman? " 

" No," replied Doris with a look of interested inquiry. 

" I'm going to have one room like grandmother Man 
ning, and live by myself. I shan't have any husband or 
children. I don't want to be sewing and knitting and 
patching continually, and babies are an awful sight of 
trouble, and husbands are just thinking of work, work all 
the time. Then I shall go visiting when I like, and 
though I shall read the Bible I won't mind about remem 
bering the sermons. I'll just have a good time by 
myself." 

Doris felt strangely puzzled. She always wanted a 
good time with someone. The great pleasure to her was 
having another share a joy. And to live alone was 
almost like being imprisoned in some dreary cell. 
Neither could she think of Helen or Eudora living alone 
indeed, any of the girls she knew. 

" Now you can go on about the wedding party," said 
Elizabeth after a pause. " And you really danced ! And 
you were not afraid the ground would open and swallow 
you?" 

" Why, no," returned Doris. " There are earthquakes 
that swallow up whole towns, but, you see, the good and 
the bad go together. And I never heard of anyone being 
swallowed up " 

" Why, yes in the Bible Korah, Dathan, and 
Abiram." 

" But they were not dancing. I think," hesitat 
ingly, " they were finding fault with Moses and Aaron, 
and wanting to be leaders in some manner." 

" Well I am glad it wasn't dancing. And now go 
on quick before they come back." 

Elizabeth had never read a fairy story or any vivid de- 



268 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

scription. She had no time and there were no books of 
that kind about the house. She fairly reveled in Doris' 
brilliant narrative. She had seen one middle-aged 
couple stand up to be married after the Sunday afternoon 
service, and she had heard of two or three younger 
people being married with a kind of wedding supper. 
But that Doris should have witnessed all this herself! 
That she should have worn a wedding gown and scat 
tered flowers before the bride! 

Ruth was tired of running. " I'm sleepy," she said. 
" Unfasten my dress, I want to go to bed." 

Betty and the boys were coming up the path, with the 
shadowy forms of the grown people behind them. 
Mr. Manning had been taking a nap on the rude kitchen 
settee, his Sunday evening indulgence. Now he came 
through the hall. 

" Boys, children, it's time to go to bed. You are all 
sleepy enough in the mornin', but you would sit up half 
the night if someone did not drive you off." 

" Oh, I wish you lived here, Aunt Betty," said Foster 
for a good-night. 

Betty and Doris were almost ready for bed when there 
was a little sound at the door, pushed open by Elizabeth, 
who stood there in her plain, scant nightgown with a dis 
traught expression, as if she had seen a ghost^________ 

" Oh, Aunt Betty or Doris, can you remember the text 
and what the sermon was about? We always say it to 
mother after tea Sabbath evening, and she'll be sure to 
ask me to-morrow morning. And I can't think! I 
never scarcely do forget. Oh, what shall I do! " 

Her distress was so genuine that Betty folded her 
in her arms. Elizabeth began to cry at the tender 
touch. 

" There, little Bessy, don't cry. Let me see I re 
member I was preaching another sermon to myself. It 



ANOTHER GIRL. 269 

was ' Do this and ye shall live.' And instead of all the 
hard things he put in, I thought of the kindly things 
father was always doing, and Uncle Win, and mother, 
and the pleasant things instead of the severe laws. And 
when he reached his lastly he said no one could keep all 
the laws, and because they could not the Saviour came 
and died, but he seemed to preach as if the old laws were 
still in force, and that the Saviour's death really had not 
changed anything. That was in the morning. And the 
afternoon was the miracle of the loaves and fishes." 

" Yes I could recall that. But I was sure mother 
would ask me the one I had forgotten. It always hap 
pens that way. Oh, I am so glad. Dear Aunt Betty! 
And if I was sometimes called Bessy, as you called me 
just now, or Betty, or anything besides the everlasting 
'Lisbeth. Oh, Doris, how happy you must be " 

" There, dear," said Betty soothingly, " don't cry so. 
I will write out what I can recall on a slip of paper and 
you can look it over in the morning. I just wish you 
could come and make me a visit, and go over to Uncle 
Win's. Yes, Doris is a happy little girl." 

" But I have everything in the world," said Doris with 
a long breath. " I am afraid I could not be so happy 
here. Oh, can't we take Elizabeth home with us? 
Betty, coax her mother." 

"It wouldn't do a bit of good. You can't coax mother. 
And there is always so much work in the summer. I am 
afraid she wouldn't like it even if you asked her." 

" But James came, and little Ruth " 

" They were too young to work. Oh, it would be like 
going to heaven! " 

" It may be sometime, little Bessy. You can dream 
over it." 

" Good-night. Would you kiss me, Doris?" 

The happy girl kissed her a dozen times instead of 



270 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

once. But her deep eyes were full of tears as she turned 
to Betty when the small figure had slipped away. 

" Yes, it is a hard life," said Betty. " It seems as if 
children's lives ought to be happier. I don't know what 
makes Mary so hard. I'm sure she does not get it from 
father or mother. She appears to think all the virtue of 
the world lies in work. I wonder what such people will 
do in heaven ! " 

" Oh, Betty, do try to have her come to Boston. I 
know Uncle Win will feel sorry for her." 

Those years in the early part of the century were not 
happy ones for childhood in general. Too much happi 
ness was considered demoralizing in this world and a 
poor preparation for the next. Work was the great 
panacea for all sorts of evils. It was seldom work for 
one's neighbors, though people were ready to go in sick 
ness and trouble. It was adding field to field and 
interest to interest, to strive and save and wear one's self 
out and die. 

Elizabeth was up betimes the next morning, and there 
lay the paper with chapter and verse and some " re 
marks." Her heart swelled with gratitude as she ran 
downstairs. Sarah had nmde the " shed " fire and the 
big wash kettle had beenput over it. She was rubbing 
out the first clothes, the nicest pieces. 

" Now fly round, 'Lisbeth," said her mother. " You've 
dawdled enough these few days back, and there'll be an 
account to settle presently. I suppose your head was so 
full of that bunch of vanity you never remembered a 
word of the sermon yesterday. What was the text in the 
morning? " 

Elizabeth's pale face turned scarlet and her lip quiv 
ered; her slight frame seemed to shrink a moment, then 
in a gasping sort of way she gave chapter and verse and 
repeated the words. 



ANOTHER GIRL. 271 

" I don't think that was it," said her mother sharply. 
" Ruth was in a fidget just as the text was given out. 
Wasn't that last Sunday's text? " 

" Some of the others may remember," the child said 
in her usual apathetical voice. 

" Well, you needn't act as if you were going to have a 
hysteric! Hand me that dish of beans. Your father 
likes them warmed over. Quick, there he comes now. 
You stir them." 

A trivet stood on the glowing coals, and the pan soon 
warmed through. Father and the men took their places. 
Foster came in sleepily. 

"Where's James?" inquired his mother. 

" I don't want him in the field to-day. He can weed 
in the garden. You send him with the dinners." 

" Where was yesterday morning's text, Foster? " Mrs. 
Manning asked sharply. 

The boy looked up blankly. As there was no Sunday 
evening examination it had slipped out of his mind. 

" It was something about keeping the law 
doing " 

James entered at that moment and had heard the ques 
tion and hesitating reply. 

" I can't remember chapter and verse, but it was short, 
and I just rammed the words down in my memory box. 
' Do this and ye shall live.' " 

" James, no such irreverence," exclaimed his father. 

Elizabeth in the kitchen drew a long breath of relief. 
She wondered whether his mother would have taken 
Aunt Betty's word. 

Monday morning was always a hard time. Sarah re 
quired looking after, for her memory lapses were fre 
quent. Mr. Manning said a good birch switch was the 
best remedy he knew. But though a hundred years be 
fore people had thought nothing of whipping their 



272 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

servants, public opinion was against it now. Mrs. Man 
ning did sometimes box her ears when she was over 
much tired. But she was a very faithful worker. 

Elizabeth gave Ruth and baby Hester their breakfast. 
Then Betty came down, and insisted upon getting the 
next breakfast while Mrs. Manning hung up her first 
clothes. She had been scolding to Betty about people 
having no thought or care as to how they put back the 
work with their late breakfast. But when Betty cooked 
and served it, and insisted upon washing up the dishes; 
and Doris amused the baby, who was not well, and helped 
Ruth shell the pease for dinner; when the washing and 
cfiurning were out of the way long before noon, and 
Elizabeth was folding down the clothes for ironing while 
Sarah and her mother prepared the dinner and sent it out 
to the men the child couldn't see that things were at all 
behindhand. 

Sarah and Elizabeth ironed in the afternoon. Mrs. 
Manning brought out her sewing and Betty helped on 
some/frocks for the children. Two old neighbors came 
in to supper, bringing two little girls who were wonder 
fully attracted by Doris and delighted to be amused in 
quite a new fashion. But Elizabeth was too busy to be 
spared. 

After supper was cleared away and the visitors had 
gone Elizabeth brought her knitting and sat on the 
stoop step in the moonlight. 

" Oh, don't knit! " cried Doris. " You look so tired." 

" I'd like to go to bed this minute," said the child. 
" But last week I fell behind. You see, there are so 
many to wear stockings, and the boys do rattle them out 
so fast. We try to get most of the new knitting done in 
the summer, for autumn brings so much work. And if 
you will talk to me I like so to hear about Boston and 
Madam Royall's beautiful house and your Uncle Win. 



ANOTHER GIRL. 273 

It must be like reading some interesting book. Oh, I 
wish I could come and stay a whole week with you ! " 

"A week!" Doris laughed. "Why, you couldn't 
see it all in a month, or a year. Every day I am finding 
something new about Boston, and Miss Recompense 
remembers so many queer stories. I'm going to tell her 
all about you. I know she'll be real nice about your 
coming. Everything is as Uncle Win says, but he 
always asks her." 

Doris could make her little descriptions very vivid and 
attractive. At first Elizabeth replied by exclamations, 
then there was quite a silence. Doris looked at her. 
She was leaning against the post of the porch and her 
needles no longer clicked, though she held the stocking 
in its place. The poor child had fallen fast asleep. The 
moonlight made her look so ghostly pale that at first 
Doris was startled. 

The three ladies came out, but Elizabeth never stirred. 
When her mother spied her she shook her sharply by the 
shoulder. 

"Poor child!" exclaimed Mrs. King. "Elizabeth, 
put up your work and go to bed." 

" If you are too sleepy to knit, put up your work and 
go out and knead on the bread a spell. Sarah always 
gets it lumpy if you don't watch her," said Mrs. Manning. 

Elizabeth gathered up her ball and went without a 
word. 

" I'll knit for you," said Betty, intercepting her, and 
taking the work. 

" Mary, you will kill that child presently, and when 
you have buried her I hope you will be satisfied to give 
Ruth a chance for her life," exclaimed Mrs. King indig 
nantly. 

" I can't afford to bring my children up in idleness, 
and if I could, I hope I have too great a sense of respon- 



274 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

sibility and my duty toward them. I was trained to 
work, and I've been thankful many a time that I didn't 
have to waste grown-up years in learning." 

" We didn't work like that. Then father had given 
some years to his country and we were poor. You have 
no need, and it is cruel to make such a slave of a child. 
She does a woman's work." 

" I am quite capable of governing my own family, 
Electa, and I think I know what is best and right for 
them. We can't afford to bring up fine ladies and teach 
them French and other trumpery. If Elizabeth is fitted 
for a plain farmer's wife, that is all I ask. She won't be 
likely to marry a President or a foreign lord, and if we 
have a few hundred dollars to start her in life, maybe she 
won't object." 

" You had better give her a little comfort now instead 
of adding farm to farm, and saving up so much for the 
woman who will come in here when you are dead and 
gone. Think of the men who have second and third 
wives and whose children are often turned adrift to look 
out for themselves. Hundreds of poor women are living 
hard and joyless lives just to save up money. And it is 
a shame to grind their children to the lowest ebb." 

Mrs. Manning was very angry. She had no argument 
at hand, so she turned in an arrogant manner and said 
austerely : 

" I had better go and look after my daughter, to see 
that she doesn't work herself quite to death. But I don't 
know what we should do without bread." 

" Now you have done it! " cried Betty. " I only hope 
she won't vent her anger on the poor child." 

" It is a curious thing," said Mrs. King reflectively, 
"that women well, men too make such a point of 
church-going on Sunday, and hardly allow the poor chil 
dren to draw a comfortable breath, and on Monday act 



ANOTHER GIRL. 275 

like fiends. Women especially seem to think they have a 
right to indulge in dreadful tempers on washing day, and 
drive all before them. Think of the work that has been 
done in this house to-day, and the picture of Elizabeth, 
worn out, falling asleep over her knitting. I should 
have sent her to bed with the chickens. I'd like to take 
her home with me, but it would spoil her for the farm." 

Betty knit away on the stocking. " I can't see what 
makes Mary so hard and grasping," she said. " It 
troubles mother a good deal." 

When they went in the house was quiet and the 
kitchen dark. Mrs. Manning sat sewing. Their candles 
were on the table. Betty and Mrs. King said a cordial 
good-night. 

The sisters-in-law were to come the next day, and 
grandmother Manning, with an addition of four children. 
The Salem sister, Mrs. Gates, was stout and pleasant; the 
farmer sister thin and with a troublesome cough, and she 
had a young baby besides her little girl of six. She was 
to make a visit in Salem, and doctor somewhat, to see if 
she could not get over her cough before cold weather. 

The children were turned out of doors on the grassy 
roadside, where they couldn't hurt anything. Mrs. Gates 
and Betty helped in the kitchen, and after the dinner was 
cleared away Elizabeth was allowed to put on her second- 
best gingham and go out with the children. They ran 
and played and screamed and laughed. 

" I'd a hundred times rather sit still and hear you talk," 
she said to Doris. " And I'm awful sorry to have you 
go to-morrow. Even when I am busy it is so nice just 
to look at you, with your beautiful hair and your dark 
eyes, and your skin that is like velvet and doesn't seem 
to tan or freckle. Foster hates freckles so." 

Doris flushed at the compliment. 

" I wonder how it would seem to be as pretty as you 




276 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

are? And you're not a bit set up about your fine clothes 
and all. I s'pose when you're born that way you're so 
used to it, and there aint anything to wish for. I'm so 
glad you could come. And I do hope you will come 
again." 

They parted very good friends. Mrs. King had been 
quite generous to the small people, and Mrs. Manning 
really loved her sister, although she considered her very 
lax and extravagant. No one could tell what was be 
fore him, and thrift and prudence were the great virtues 
of those days. True, they often degenerated into penu- 
riousness and labor that was early and late so severe, 
indeed, it cost many a life; and the people who came after 
reaped the benefit. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

WINTER AND SORROW. 

Uncle Win," exclaimed Doris, " I can't be sorry 
that I went to Salem, and I've had a queer, delight 
ful time seeing so many strange things and hearing 
stories about them! But I am very, very glad to get 
back to Boston, and gladdest of all to be your little girl. 
There isn't anybody in the whole wide world I'd change 
you for! " 

Her arms were about him. He was so tall that she 
could not quite reach up to his neck when he stood 
straight, but he had a way of bending over, and she was 
growing, and the clasp gave him a thrill of exquisite 
pleasure. 

" I've missed my little girl a great deal," he said. " I 
am afraid I shall never want you to go away again." 

" The next time you must go with me. Though Betty 
was delightful and Mrs. King is just splendid." 

They had famous talks about Salem afterward, and the 



WINTER AND SORROW. 277 

little towns around. Miss Recompense said now she 
shouldn't know how to live without a child in the house. 
Mrs. King went home to her husband and little ones, and 
Doris imagined the joy in greeting such a fond mother. 
Uncle Win half promised he would visit New York 
sometime. Even Aunt Priscilla was pleased when Doris 
came up to Sudbury Street, and wanted her full share of 
every visit. And they were all amazed when she went 
over to Uncle Win's to spend a day and was very cordial 
with Miss Recompense. They had a nice chat about the 
old times and the Salem witches and the dead and gone 
Governors even Governor and Lady Gage, who had 
been very gay in her day ; and both women had seen her 
riding about in her elegant carriage, often with a hand 
some young girl at her side. 

She had some business, too, with Uncle Win. They 
were in the study a long while together. 

" Living with the Leveretts has certainly changed 
Aunt Priscilla very much," he said later in the evening 
to Miss Recompense. " I begin to think it is not good 
for people to live so much alone when they are going 
down the shady side of life. Or perhaps it would not be 
so shady if they would allow a little sun to shine in it." 

Solomon was full of purring content and growing 
lazier every day. Latterly he had courted Uncle Win's 
society. There was a wide ledge in one of the southern 
windows, and Doris made a cushion to fit one end. He 
loved to lie here and bask in the sunshine. When there 
was a fire on the hearth he had another cushion in the 
corner. Sometimes he sauntered around and inter 
viewed the books quite as if he was aware of their con 
tents. He considered that he had a supreme right to 
Doris' lap, and he sometimes had half a mind to spring 
up on Uncle Win's knee, but the invitation did not seem 
sufficiently pressing. 



278 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

Gary was at home regularly now, except that he spent 
one night every week with a friend at Charlestown, and 
went frequently to the Cragies' to meet some of his 
old chums. He had not appeared to care much for 
Doris at first, and she was rather shy. Latterly they had 
become quite friends. 

But it seemed to Doris that he was so much gayer and 
brighter at Madam Royall's, where he certainly was a 
great favorite. Miss Alice was very brilliant and charm 
ing. They were always having hosts of company. Mr. 
and Mrs. Winslow were at the head of one circle in 
society. And this autumn Miss Jane Morse was married 
and went to live in Sheaffe Street in handsome style. She 
had done very well indeed. Betty was one of the brides 
maids and wore a white India silk in which she looked 
quite a beauty. 

Miss Helen Chapman was transferred to Mrs. Row- 
son's school to be finished. Doris and Eudora still at 
tended Miss Parker's. But Madam Royall had treated 
the girls to the new instrument coming into vogue, the 
pianoforte. It's tone was so much richer and deeper 
than the old spinet. She liked it very much herself. 
Doris was quite wild over it. Madam Royal begged that 
she might be allowed to take lessons on it with the girls. 
Uncle Winthrop said in a year or two she might have 
one if she liked it and could learn to play. 

She and Betty used to talk about Elizabeth Manning. 
There was a new baby now, another little boy. Mrs. 
Leverett made a visit and brought home Hester, to ease 
up things for the winter. Elizabeth couldn't go to 
school any more, there was so much to do. She wrote 
Doris quite a long letter and sent it by grandmother. 
Postage was high then, and people did not write much 
for pure pleasure. 

And just before the new year, when Betty was planning 



WINTER AND SORROW. 279 

to go to New York for her visit to Mrs. King, a great 
sorrow came to all of them. Uncle Leverett had not 
seemed well all the fall, though he was for the most part 
his usual happy self, but business anxieties pressed 
deeply upon him and Warren. He used to drop in now 
and then and take tea with Cousin Winthrop, and as they 
sat round the cheerful fire Doris would bring her stool 
to his side and slip her hand in his as she had that first 
winter. She was growing tall quite rapidly now, and 
pretty by the minute, Uncle Leverett said. 

There was no end of disquieting rumors. American 
shipping was greatly interfered with and American sea 
men impressed aboard British ships by the hundreds, 
often to desert at the first opportunity. Merchantmen 
were deprived of the best of their crews for the British 
navy, as that country was carrying on several wars; and 
now Wellington had gone to the assistance of the 
Spanish, and all Europe was trying to break the power 
of Napoleon, who had set out since the birth of his son, 
now crowned King of Rome, to subdue all the nations. 

The Leopard-Chesapeake affair had nearly plunged us 
into war, but it was promptly disavowed by the British 
Government and some indemnity paid. There was a 
powerful sentiment opposed to war in New York and 
New England, but the people were becoming much in 
flamed under repeated outrages. Young men were 
training in companies and studying up naval matters. 
The country had so few ships then that to rush into a 
struggle was considered madness. 

Mr. Winthrop Adams was among those bitterly op 
posed to war. Gary was strongly imbued with a young 
man's patriotic enthusiasm. There was a good deal of 
talk at Madam Royall's, and a young lieutenant had been 
quite a frequent visitor and was an admirer also of the 
fair Miss Alice. Then Alfred Barron, his friend at 



2 8o A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

Charlestown, had entered the naval service. Studying 
law seemed dry and tiresome to the young fellow when 
such stirring events were happening on every side. 

Uncle Leverett took a hard cold early in the new year. 
He was indoors several days, then some business diffi 
culties seemed to demand his attention and he went out 
again. A fever set in, and though at first it did not ap 
pear serious, after a week the doctor began to look very 
grave. Betty stopped her preparations and wrote a 
rather apprehensive letter to Mrs. King. 

One day Uncle Win was sent for, and remained all the 
afternoon and evening. The next morning he went 
down to the store. 

" I'm afraid father's worse," said Warren. " His fever 
was very high through the night, and he was flighty, and 
now he seems to be in a sort of stupor, with a very feeble 
pulse. Oh, Uncle Win, I haven't once thought of his 
dying, and now I am awfully afraid. Business is in such 
a dreadful way. That has worried him." 

Mr. Adams went up to Sudbury Street at once. The 
doctor was there. 

" There has been a great change since yesterday," he 
said gravely. " We must prepare for the worst. It has 
taken me by surprise, for he bid fair to pull through." 

Alas, the fears were only too true ! By night they had 
all given up hope and watched tearfully for the next 
twenty-four hours, when the kindly, upright life that had 
blessed so many went to its own reward. 

To Doris is seemed incredible. That poor Miss Hen 
rietta Maria should slip out of life was only a release, and 
that Miss Arabella in the ripeness of age should follow 
had awakened in her heart no real sorrow, but a gentle 
sense of their having gained something in another world. 
But Uncle Leverett had so much here, so many to love 
him and to need him. 



WINTER AND SORROW. 281 

Death, the mystery to all of us, is doubly so to the 
young. When Doris looked on Uncle Leverett's placid 
face she was very sure he could not be really gone, but 
mysteriously asleep. 

Yes, little Doris the active, loving, thinking man had 
" fallen on sleep," and the soul had gone to its reward. 

Foster Leverett had been very much respected, and 
there were many friends to follow him to his grave in the 
old Granary burying ground, where the Fosters and 
Leveretts rested from their labors. There on the walk 
stood the noble row of elms that Captain Adino Pad 
dock had imported from England a dozen years before 
the Revolutionary War broke out, in their very pride of 
strength and grandeur now, even if they were leafless. 

It seemed very hard and cruel to leave him here in the 
bleakness of midwinter, Doris thought. And he was 
not really dead to her until the bearers turned away with 
empty hands, and the friends with sorrowful Meeting 
passed out of the inclosure and left him alon<Fto the 
coming evening and the requiem of the wind soughing 
through the trees. 

Doris sat by Miss Recompense that evening with Solo 
mon on her lap. She could not study, she did not want 
to read or sew or make lace. Uncle Winthrop had gone 
up to Sudbury Street. All the family were to be there. 
The Kings had come from New York and the Mannings 
from Salem. 

" Oh," said Doris, after a long silence, " how can Aunt 
Elizabeth live, and Betty and Warren, when they cannot 
see uncle Leverett any more! And there are so many 
things to talk about, only they can never ask him any 
questions, and he was so so comforting. He was the 
first one that came to me on the vessel, you know, and he 
said to Captain Grier, ' Have you a little girl who has 
come from Old Boston to New Boston? ' Then he put 



282 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

his arm around me, and I liked him right away. And 
the great fire in the hall was so lovely. I liked every 
body but Aunt Priscilla, and now I feel sorry for her and 
like her a good deal. Sometimes she gets queer and 
what she calls ' pudgicky.' But she is real good to 
Betty." 

" She's a sensible, clear-headed woman, and she has 
good solid principles. I do suppose we all get a little 
queer. I can see it in myself." 

" Oh, dear Miss Recompense, you are not queer," pro 
tested Doris, seizing her hand. " When I first came I 
was a little afraid you were so very nice. And then I 
remembered that Miss Arabella had all these nice ways, 
and could not bear a cloth askew nor towels wrinkled 
instead of being laid straight, nor anything spilled at the 
table, nor an untidy room, and she was very sweet and 
nice. And then I tried to be as neat as I could." 

" I knew you had been well brought up." Miss 
Recompense was pleased always to be compared to her 
" dear Miss Arabella." There was something grateful 
to her woman's heart, that had long ago held a longing 
for a child of her own, in the ardent tone Doris always 
uttered this endearment. 

"Miss Recompense, don't you think there is something 
in people loving you? You want to love them in return. 
You want to do the things they like. And when they 
smile and are glad, your whole heart is light with a kind 
of inward sunshine. And I think if Mrs. Manning 
would smile on Elizabeth once in a while, and tell her 
what she did was nice, and that she was smart, for she 
is very, very smart, I know it would comfort her." 

" You see, people haven't thought it was best to praise 
children. ,They rarely did in my day." 

" But Uncle Leverett praised Warren and Betty, and 



WINTER AND SORROW. 283 

always said what Aunt Elizabeth cooked and did was 
delightful." 

" Foster Lever ett was one man out of a thousand. 
They will all miss him dreadfully." 

Aunt Priscilla would have been amazed to know that 
Mr. Leverett had been in the estimation of Miss Recom 
pense an ideal husband. Years ago she had compared 
other men with him and found them wanting. 

Uncle Win was much surprised to find them sitting 
there talking when he came home, for it was ten o'clock. 
Gary returned shortly after, and the two men retired to 
the study. But there was a curious half-dread of some 
intangible influence that kept Doris awake a long while. 
The wind moaned outside and now and then raised to a 
somber gust sweeping across the wide Common. Oh, 
how lonely it must be in the old burying ground! 

Mr. Leverett's will had been read that evening. The 
business was left to Warren, as Hollis had most of his 
share years before. To the married daughters a small 
remembrance, to Betty and her mother the house in Sud- 
bury Street, to be kept or sold as they should elect; if 
sold, they were to share equally. 

Mrs. King was very well satisfied. In the present 
state of affairs Warren's part was very uncertain, and 
his married sisters were to be paid out of that. The 
building was old, and though the lot was in a good busi 
ness location, the value at that time was not great. 

" It seems to me the estate ought to be worth more," 
said Mrs. Manning. " I did suppose father was quite 
well off, and had considerable ready money." 

" So he did two years ago," answered Warren. " But 
it has been spent in the effort to keep afloat. If the 
times should ever get better " 

"You'll pull through," said Hollis encouragingly. 



284 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

He had not suffered so much from the hard times, and 
was prospering. 

The will had been remade six months before, after a 
good deal of consideration. 

When Mrs. King went home, a few days after, she said 
privately to Warren : " Do not trouble about my legacy, 
and if you come to hard places I am sure Matt will help 
you out if he possibly can." 

Warren thanked her in a broken voice. 

Mr. King said nearly the same thing as he grasped the 
young fellow's hand. 

They were a very lonely household. Of course, Betty 
could not think of going away. And now that they 
knew what a struggle it had been for some time to keep 
matters going comfortably, they cast about to see what 
retrenchment could be made. Even if they wanted to, 
this would be no time to sell. The house seemed much 
too large for them, yet it was not planned so that any 
could be rented out. 

"If you're set upon that," said Aunt Priscilla, "I'll take 
the spare rooms, whether I need them or not. And we 
will just go on together. Strange though that Foster, 
who was so much needed, should be taken, and I, without 
a chick or a child, and so much older, be left behind." 

There was a new trustee to be looked up for Doris. 
A much younger man was needed. If Gary were five or 
six years older! Foster Leverett's death was a great 
shock to Winthrop Adams. Sometimes it seemed as if 
a shadowy form hovered over his shoulder, warning him 
that middle life was passing. He had a keen disappoint 
ment, too, in his son. He had hoped to find in him an 
intellectual companion as the years went on, but he could 
plainly see that his heart was not in his profession. The 
young fellow's ardor had been aroused on other lines 
that brought him in direct opposition to the elder's 



WINTER AND SORROW. 285 

views. He had gone so far as to ask his father's per 
mission to enlist in the navy, which had been refused, not 
only with prompt decision, but with a feeling of amaze 
ment that a son of his should have proposed such a 
step. 

Gary had the larger love of country and the enthu 
siasm of youth. His father was deeply interested in the 
welfare and standing of the city, and he desired it to keep 
at the head. He had hoped to see his son one of the 
rising men of the coming generation. War horrified 
him: it called forth the cruel and brutal side of most 
men, and was to be undertaken only for extremely 
urgent reasons as the last hope and salvation of one's 
country. We had gained a right to stand among the 
nations of the world ; it was time now that we should take 
upon ourselves something higher the cultivation of 
literature and the fine arts. To plunge the country into 
war again would be setting it back decades. 

He had taken a great deal of pleasure in the meetings 
of the Anthology Club and the effort they had made to 
keep afloat a Magazine of Polite Literature. The little 
supper, which was very plain; the literary chat; the 
discussions of English poets and essayists, several of 
which were reprinted at this era; and the encouragement 
of native writers, of whom there were but few except in 
the line of sermons and orations. By 1793 there had 
been two American novels published, and though we 
should smile over them now we can find their compeers 
in several of the old English novels that crop out now 
and then, exhumed from what was meant to be a kindly 
oblivion. 

The magazine had been given up, and the life some 
how had gone out of the club. There was a plan to 
form a reading room and library to take its place. Men 
like Mr. Adams were anxious to advance the intellectual 



286 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

reputation of the town, though few people found suffi 
cient leisure to devote to the idea of a national literature. 
Others said : " What need, when we have the world of 
brilliant English thinkers that we can never excel, the 
poets, and novelists! Let us study those and be content." 

The incidents of the winter had been quite depressing 
to Mr. Adams. Gary was around to the Royalls' nearly 
every evening, sometimes to other places, and at dis 
cussions that would have alarmed his father still more if 
he had known it. The young fellow's conscience gave 
him many twinges. " Children, obey your parents " had 
been instilled into every generation and until a boy was 
of age he had no lawful right to think for himself. 

So it happened that Doris became more of a com 
panion to Uncle Win. They rambled about as the 
spring opened and noted the improvements. Old Frog 
Lane was being changed into Boylston Street. Every 
year the historic Common took on some new charm. 
There was the Old Elm, that dated back to tradition, for 
no one could remember its youth. She was interested 
in the conflicts that had ushered in the freedom of the 
American Colonies. Here the British waited behind 
their earthworks for Washington to attack them, just as 
every winter boys congregated behind their snowy walls 
and fought mimic battles. Indeed, during General 
Gage's administration the soldiers had driven the boys 
off their coasting place on the Common, and in a body 
they had gone to the Governor and demanded their 
rights, which were restored to them. Many a famous 
celebration had occurred here, and here the militia met 
on training days and had their banquets in tents. At the 
first training all the colored population was allowed to 
throng the Common; but at the second, when the Ancient 
and Honorable Artillery chose its new officers, they were 
strictly prohibited. 



WINTER AND SORROW. 287 

Many of the ropewalks up at the northern end were 
silent now. Indeed, everybody seemed waiting with 
bated breath for something to happen, but all nature 
went on 1 its usual way and made the town a little 
world of beauty with wild flowers and shrubs and the 
gardens coming into bloom, and the myriads of fruit 
trees with their crowns of snowy white and pink in all 
gradations. 

" I think the world never was so beautiful," said Doris 
to Uncle Winthrop. 

It was so delightful to have such an appreciative com 
panion, even if she was only a little girl. 

Gary's birthday was the last of May, and it was de 
cided to have the family party at the same time. Gary's 
young friends would be invited in the evening, but for 
the elders there would be the regular supper. 

" You will have your freedom suit, and afterward you 
can do just as you like," said Doris laughingly. She 
and Gary had been quite friendly of late, young- 
mannish reserve having given place to a brotherly 
regard. 

"Do you suppose I can do just as I like?" He 
studied the eager face. 

" Of course you wouldn't want to do anything Uncle 
Win would not like." 

Gary flushed. " I wonder if fathers always know 
what is best? And when you are a man " he began. 

" Don't you want to study law? " 

" Under some circumstances I should like it." 

" Would you like keeping a store or having a factory, 
or building beautiful houses architecture, I believe, the 
fine part is called. Or painting portraits like Copley and 
Stuart and the young Mr. Allston up in Court Street." 

" No, I can't aspire to that kind of genius, and I am 
sure I shouldn't like shop-keeping. I am just an ordi- 



2 88 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

nary young fellow and I am afraid I shall always be a 
disappointment to the kindest of fathers. I wish there 
were three or four other children." 

" How strange it would seem," returned Doris mus 
ingly. 

" I am glad he has you, little Doris." 

" Are you really glad? " Her face was alight with 
joy. " Sometimes I have almost wondered " 

" Don't wonder any more. You are like a dear little 
sister. During the last six months it has been a great 
pleasure to me to see father so fond of you. I hope you 
will never go away." 

" I don't mean to. I love Uncle Win dearly. It used 
to trouble me sometimes when Uncle Leverett was alive, 
lest I couldn't love quite even, you know," and a tiny 
line came in her smooth brow. 

" What an idea ! " with a soft smile that suggested his 
father. 

" It's curious how you can love so many people," she 
said reflectively. 

At first the Leveretts thought they could not come 
to the party, but Uncle Winthrop insisted strongly. 
Some of the other relatives had lost members from their 
households. All the gayety would be reserved for the 
evening. But Gary said they would miss Betty very 
much. 

They had a pleasant afternoon, and Betty was finally 
prevailed upon to stay a little while in the evening. 
Gary was congratulated by the elder relatives, who said 
many pleasant things and gave him good wishes as to 
his future success. One of the cousins proposed his 
health, and Gary replied in a very entertaining manner. 
There was a birthday cake that he had to cut and pass 
around. 

" I think Gary has been real delightful," said Betty. 



WINTER AND SORROW. 289 

" I've never felt intimately acquainted with him, because 
he has always seemed rather distant, and went with the 
quality and all that, and we are rather plain people. Oh, 
how proud of him Uncle Win must be! " 

He certainly was proud of his gracious attentions to 
the elders and his pleasant way of taking the rather tire 
some compliments of a few of the old ladies who had 
known his Grandfather Gary as well as his Grandfather 
Adams. 

Aunt Elizabeth and Aunt Priscilla sat up in the room 
of Miss Recompense with a few of the guests who wanted 
to see the young people gather. There were four col 
ored musicians, and they began to tune their instruments 
out on the rustic settee at the side of the front garden, 
where the beautiful drooping honey locusts hid them 
from sight and made even the tuning seem enchanting. 
Girls in white gowns trooped up the path, young men in 
the height of fashion carried fans and nosegays for them ; 
there was laughing and chattering and floating back and 
forth to the dressing rooms. 

Madam Royall came with Miss Alice and Helen, who 
was allowed to go out occasionally under her wing. 
Eudora had been permitted just to look on a while and 
to return with grandmamma. 

The large parlor was cleared of the small and dainty 
tables and articles likely to be in the way of the dancers. 
The first was to be a new march to a patriotic air, and the 
guests stood on the stairs to watch them come out of the 
lower door of the long room, march through the hall, and 
enter the parlor at the other door. Oh, what a pretty 
crowd they were! The old Continental styles had not 
all gone out, but were toned down a little. There were 
pretty embroidered satin petticoats and sheer gowns fall 
ing away at the sides, with a train one had to tuck up 
under the belt when one really danced. Hair of all 



290 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

shades done high on the head with a comb of silver or 
brilliants, or tortoise shell so clear that you could see the 
limpid variations. Pompadour rolls, short curls, dainty 
puffs, many of the dark heads powdered, laces and frills 
and ribbons, and dainty feet in satin slippers and silken 
hose. 

After that they formed quadrilles in the parlor. There 
was space for three and one in the hall. Eudora and 
Doris patted their feet on the stairs in unison, and clasp 
ing each other's hands smiled and moved their heads in 
perfect time. 

Aunt Priscilla admitted that it was a beautiful sight, 
but she had her doubts about it. Betty was sorry there 
was such a sad cause for her not being among them. 
Even Gary had expressed regrets about it. 

Then the Leveretts and Madam Royall went home. 
A few of the elders had a game of loo, and Mr. Adams 
played chess with Morris Winslow, whose pretty wife still 
enjoyed dancing, though he was growing stout and 
begged to be excused on a warm night. 

They played forfeits afterward and had a merry time. 
Then there was supper, and they drank toasts and made 
bright speeches, and there was a great deal of jesting and 
gay laughter, and much wishing of success, a judgeship 
in the future, a mission abroad perhaps, a pretty and lov 
ing wife, a happy and honorable old age. 

They drank the health of Mr. Winthrop as well, and 
congratulated him on his promising son. He was very 
proud and happy that night, and planned within his heart 
what he woulcl do for his boy. 

Doris kept begging to stay up a little longer. The 
music was so fascinating, for the band was playing soft 
strains out on the front porch while the guests were at 
supper. She sat on the stairs quite enchanted with the 
gay scene. 



THE HIGH RESOLVE OF YOUTH. 291 

The guests wandered about the hall and parlor and 
chatted joyously. Then there was a movement toward 
breaking up. 

Miss Alice espied her. 

" Oh, you midget, are you up here at midnight? " she 
cried. " Have we done Gary ample honor on his arrival 
at man's estate? " 

" You were all so beautiful ! " said Doris breathlessly. 
"And the dancing and the music. It was splendid! " 

Helen kissed her good-night with girlish effusion. 
Some of the other ladies spoke to her, and Mrs. Winslow 
said : " No doubt you will have a party in this old house. 
But you will have a girl's advantage. You need not 
wait until you are twenty-one." 

When the last good-nights were said, and the lights 
put out, Gary Adams wondered whether he would have 
the determination to avow his plans. 



CHAPTER XIX. 

THE HIGH RESOLVE OF YOUTH. 

\ A7AR was declared. The President, James Madison, 
* * proclaimed it June 18, 1812. Hostilities opened 
promptly. True, England's navy was largely engaged 
with France in the tremendous effort to keep Napoleon 
confined within the boundaries that he had at one time 
assented to by treaty, but at that period she had over a 
thousand vessels afloat, while America had only seven 
teen warships in her navy to brave them. 

There was a call for men and money. The Indian 
troubles had been fomented largely by England. There 
had been fighting on the borders, but the battle of Tippe- 
canoe had broken the power of Tecumseh for the time, 
at least. But now the hopes of the Indian chieftain re- 



292 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

vived, and the country was beset by both land and naval 
warfare. 

The town had been all along opposed to war. It had 
been said of Boston a few years before that she was like 
Tyre of old, and that her ships whitened every sea. Still, 
now that the fiat had gone forth, the latent enthusiasm 
came to the surface, and men were eager to enlist. A 
company had been studying naval tactics at Charlestown, 
and most of them offered their services, filled with the 
enthusiasm of youth and brimming with indignation at 
the treatment our sailors were continually receiving. 

Still, the little navy had proudly distinguished itself 
in the Mediterranean, and the Constitution had gained 
for herself the sobriquet of " Old Ironsides " a Boston- 
built vessel, though the live oak, the red cedar, and the 
pitch pine had come from South Carolina. But Paul 
Revere had furnished the copper bolts and spikes, and 
when the ship was recoppered, later on, that came from 
the same place. Ephraim Thayer, at the South End, had 
made her gun carriages, and her sails were manufactured 
in the Old Granary building. 

" A bunch of pine boards with a bit of striped bunt 
ing " had been the enemy's disdainful description of our 
youthful navy. And now they were to try their prowess 
with the Mistress of the Seas, who had defeated the com 
bined navies of Europe. No wonder the country stood 
astounded over its own daring. 

Everything afloat was hurriedly equipped as a war 
vessel. The solid, far-sighted men of New York and 
New England shook their heads over the great mistake 
Congress and the President had made. 

Warren Leverett began to talk about enlisting. Busi 
ness had been running behind. True, he could appeal to 
his brother-in-law King. He had sounded Hollis, who 
declared he had all he could do to keep afloat himself. 



THE HIGH RESOLVE OF YOUTH. 293 

Mrs. Leverett besought him to take no hasty step. 
What could they do without him? -They might break 
up the home. Electa would be glad to have Betty 
there were some things she could do, but Aunt Priscilla 
whose health was really poor 

Aunt Priscilla understood the drift presently, and the 
perplexity. Warren admitted that if he had some money 
to tide him over he would fight through. The war 
couldn't last forever. 

" And you never thought of me! " declared Aunt Pris 
cilla, pretending to be quite indignant. " See here, War 
ren Leverett, when I made my will I looked out for you 
and Betty. Mary Manning shan't hoard up any of my 
money, and 'Lecty King, thank the Lord, doesn't want 
it. So if you're to have it in the end you may as well 
take some of it now, fursisee. I shall have enough to 
last my time out. And I'm settled and comfortable 
here and don't want to be routed out and set down else 
where." 

Warren and his mother were surprised and overcome 
by the offer. He would take it only on condition that 
he should pay Aunt Priscilla the interest. 

But his business stirred up wonderfully. Still, they 
all felt it was very generous in Aunt Priscilla, whose 
money had really been her idol. 

Doris had gone over from her music lesson one after 
noon. They were always so glad to see her. Aunt Pris 
cilla thought a piano in such times as these was almost 
defying Providence. But even the promise of that did 
not spoil Doris, and they were always glad to see her 
drop in and hear her dainty bits of news. 

They wanted very much to keep her to supper. 

" Why, they " which meant the family at home 
" will be sure you have stayed here or at the Royalls'. 
Mr. Winslow has given ever so much money toward the 



294 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

fitting out of a vessel. They are all very patriotic. And 
Gary's uncle, Mr. March, has gone in heart and hand. I 
don't know which is right," said Betty with a sigh, " but 
now that we are in it I hope we will win." 

But Doris was afraid Miss Recompense would feel 
anxious, and she promised to come in a few days and 
stay to supper. 

It was very odd that just as she reached the corner 
Cousin Gary should cross the street and join her. 

" I have been down having a talk with Warren," he 
said as if in explanation. " I wish I had a good, plodding 
business head like that, and Warren isn't lacking in the 
higher qualities, either. If there was money enough to 
keep the house going, he would enlist. He had almost 
resolved to when this stir in business came." 

" Oh, I don't know what his mother would have done! 
If Uncle Leverett was alive " 

" He would have consented in a minute. Someone's 
sons must go," Gary said decisively. " No, don't go 
straight home come over to the Common. Doris, you 
are only a little girl, but I want to talk to you. There is 
no one else " 

Doris glanced at him in amazement. He was quite 
generally grave, though he sometimes teased her, and 
occasionally read with her and explained any difficult 
point. But she always felt so like a very little girl with 
him. 

They went on in silence, however, until they crossed 
Common Street and passed on under the magnificent 
elms. Clumps of shrubbery were blooming. Vines ran 
riotously over supports, and roses and honeysuckle made 
the air sweet. 

" Doris," his voice had a little huskiness in it, " you 
are very fond of father, and he loves you quite as if you 



THE HIGH RESOLVE OF YOUTH. 295 

were his own child. Oh, I wish you were! I wish he 
had half a dozen sons and daughters. If mother had 
lived " 

" Yes," Doris said at length, in the long silence broken 
only by the song and whistle of myriad birds. 

" I don't know how to tell you. I can't soften things, 
incidents, or explanations. I am so apt to go straight to 
the point, and though it may be honorable, it is not 
always wisest or best. But I can't help it now. I have 
enlisted in the navy. We start for Annapolis this even 
ing." 

"Oh, Gary! And Uncle Win " 

" That is it. That gives me a heartache, I must con 
fess. For, you see, I can't go and tell him in a manly 
way, as I would like. We have had some talks over it. I 
asked him before I was of age, and he refused in the most 
decisive manner to consider it. He said if I went I 
would have to choose between the country and him, 
which meant a separation for years, maybe. It is 
strange, too, for he is noble and just and patriotic on cer 
tain lines. I do think he would spend any money on me, 
give me everything I could possibly want, but he feels 
in some way that I am his and it is my duty to do with 
my life what he desires, not what I like. I am talking 
over your head, you are such a little girl, and so simple- 
hearted. And I have really come to love you a great 
deal, Doris." 

She looked up with a soft smile, but there were tears 
in her eyes. 

" You see, a big boy who has no sisters doesn't get 
used to little girls. And when he really begins to admire 
them they are generally older. Then, I have always been 
with boys and young men. I was glad when you came, 
because father was so interested in you. And I thought 



296 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

he had begun to love you so much that he wouldn't 
really mind if I went away. But, you see, his heart would 
be big enough for a houseful of children." 

" Oh, why do you go? He will be broken-hearted." 

" Little Doris, I shall be broken-hearted if I stay. I 
shall begin to hate law maybe I shall take to drink 
young fellows do at times. I know I shall be just good 
for nothing. I should like best to talk it over dispas 
sionately with him, but that can't be done. We should 
both say things that would hurt each other and that we 
should regret all our lives. I have written him a long 
letter, but I wanted to tell someone. I thought of Betty 
first, and Madam Royall, but no one can comfort him 
like you. Then I wanted you to feel, Doris, that I was 
not an ungrateful, disobedient son. I wish we could 
think alike about the war, but it seems that we cannot. 
And because you are here, and, Doris, you are a very 
sweet little girl, and you will love him always, I know, 
I give him in your charge. I hope to come back, but 
the chances of war are of a fearful sort, and if I should 
not, will you keep to him always, Doris? Will you be 
son and daughter to him as you grow up oh, Doris, 
don't cry! People die every day, you know, staying at 
home. I have often thought how sad it was that my 
mother and both your parents should die so young " 

His voice broke then. They came to a rustic seat and 
sat down. He took her hand and pressed it to his lips. 

" If I shouldn't ever come back " tremulously " I 
should like to feel at the last moment there was some 
one who would tell him that my very latest thought was 
of him and his tender love all my twenty-one years. I 
want you to make him feel that it was no disrespect 
to him, but love for my country, that impelled me to the 
step. You will understand it better when you grow 
older, and I can trust you to do me full justice and to be 



THE HIGH RESOLVE OF YOUTH. 297 

tender to him. And at first, Doris, when I can, I shall 
write to you. If he doesn't forbid you, I want you to 
answer if I can get letters. This is a sad, sad talk for a 
little girl " 

Doris tried very hard not to sob. She seemed to 
understand intuitively how it was, and that to make any 
appeal could only pain him without persuading. If she 
were as wise and bright as Betty! 

" That is all or if I said any more it would be a repe 
tition, and it is awfully hard on you. But you will love 
him and comfort him." 

" I shall love him and stay with him all my life," said 
Doris with tender solemnity. 

They were both too young to understand all that such 
a promise implied. 

" My dear little sister! " He rose and stooping over 
kissed her on the fair forehead. " I will walk back to the 
house with you," he added as she rose. 

Neither of them said a word until they reached the cor 
ner. Then he took both hands and, kissing her again, 
turned away, feeling that he could not even utter a 
good-by. 

Doris stood quite still, as if she was stunned. She 
was not crying in any positive fashion, but the tears 
dropped silently. She could not go indoors, so she went 
down to the big apple tree that had a seat all around the 
trunk. Was Uncle Win at home? Then she heard 
voices. Miss Recompense had a visitor, and she was 
very glad. 

The lady, an old friend, stayed to supper. Uncle Win 
did not make his appearance. Doris took a book after 
ward and sat out on the stoop, but reading was only a 
pretense. She was frightened now at having a secret, 
and it seemed such a solemn thing as she recalled what 
she had promised. She would like to spend all her life 



298 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

with Uncle Win; but could she care for him and make 
him happy, when the one great love of his life was gone? 

Miss Recompense walked out to the gate with her 
visitor, and they had a great many last bits to say, and 
then she watched her going down the street. 

" Child, you can't see to read," she said to Doris. " I 
think it is damp. You had better come in. Mr. Adams 
will not be home before ten." 

Doris entered the lighted hall and stood a moment 
uncertain. 

" How pale and heavy-eyed you look ! " exclaimed 
Miss Recompense. " Does your head ache? Have they 
some new trouble in Sudbury Street? " 

" Oh, no. But I am tired. I think I will go to bed. 
Good-night, dear Miss Recompense," and she gave her 
a gentle hug. 

She cried a little softly to her pillow. Had Gary gone? 
When Uncle Win came home he would find the letter. 
She dreaded to-morrow. 

Gary had one more errand before he started. He had 
said good-by to them at Madam Royall's and announced 
his enlistment, but he had asked Alice to meet him at the 
foot of the garden. They were not lovers, though he 
was perhaps quite in love. And he knew that he had 
only to speak to gain his father's consent and have his 
way to matrimony made easy, since it was Alice Royall. 
But he had never been quite sure that she cared for him 
with her whole soul, as Isabel had cared for Morris Win- 
slow. And if he won her would he, could he go 
away? 

He used to wonder later on how much was pure pa 
triotism and how much a desire to stand well with Alice 
Royall. She was proudly patriotic and had stirred his 
blood many a time with her wishes and desires for the 
country. Grandmamma Royall had laughed a little at 



THE HIGH RESOLVE OF YOUTH. 299 

her vehemence, and said it was fortunate she was not a 
boy. 

" I should enlist at once. Or what would be better 
yet, I would beg brother Morris to fit out a war ship, and 
look up the men to command it, and go in any capacity. 
I should not wait for a high-up appointment." 

When Gary confessed his step first to her, she caught 
his hands in hers so soft and delicate. 

" I knew you were the stuff out of which heroes were 
made!" she cried exultantly. "Oh, Gary, I shall pray 
for you day and night, and you will come back crowned 
with honors." 

" If I come back " 

" You will. Take my word for your guerdon. I 
can't tell you how I know it, but I am sure you will re 
turn. I can see you and the future " 

She paused, flushed with excitement, her eyes intense, 
her rosy lips tremulous, and looked, indeed, as if she 
might be inspired. 

So she met him again at the garden gate for a last 
good-by. Young people who had been well brought up 
did not play at love-making in those days, though they 
might be warm friends. A girl seldom gave or received 
caresses until the elders had signified assent. An en 
gagement was quite a solemn thing, not lightly to be 
entered into. And even to himself Gary seemed very 
young. All his instincts were those of a gentleman, and 
in his father he had had an example of the most punc 
tilious honor. 

They walked up and down a few moments. He 
pressed tender kisses on her fair hand, about which there 
always seemed to cling the odor of roses. And then he 
tore himself away with a passionate sorrow that his 
father, the nearest in human ties of love, could not bid 
him Godspeed. 



300 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

The next morning Doris wondered what had hap 
pened. There was a loneliness in the very air, as there 
had been when Uncle Leverett died. The sky was over 
cast, not exactly promising a storm, but soft and pene 
trative, as if presaging sorrow. 

Oh, yes, she remembered now. She dressed herself 
and went quietly downstairs. 

" You may as well come and have your breakfast," 
exclaimed Miss Recompense. " Your uncle sent down 
word that he had a headache and begged not to be dis 
turbed. He was up a long while after he came home 
last night; it must have been past midnight when he 
went to bed. I wish he did not get so deeply interested 
in improvements and everything. And if we are to be 
bombarded and destroyed I don't see any sense in laying 
out new streets and filling up ponds and wasting the 
money of the town." 

It seemed to Doris as if she could not swallow a 
mouthful. She tried heroically. Then she went out and 
gathered a bunch of roses for Uncle Win's study. She 
generally read French and Latin a while with him in the 
morning. Then she made her bed, dusted her room, 
put her books in her satchel and went to school in an un 
willing sort of fashion. How long the morning seemed ! 
Then there was a half-hour in deportment we should 
call it physical culture at present. All the girls were gay 
and chatty. Eudora told her about a new lace stitch. 
Grandmamma had been out yesterday where there was 
such an elegant Spanish woman with coal-black eyes and 
hair. Her family had fled to this country to escape the 
horrors of war. They had been rich, but were now quite 
poor, and she was thinking of having a needlework class. 

Did Eudora know Gary had gone away? 

Uncle Win came out to dinner. She was a little late. 



THE HIGH RESOLVE OF YOUTH. 301 

He glanced up and gave a faint half-smile, but, oh, how 
deadly pale he was! 

" Dear Uncle Winthrop is your headache better? " 
she asked with gentle solicitude. 

" A little," he said gravely. 

It was a very quiet meal. Although Mr. Winthrop 
Adams had a delicate appearance, he was rarely ill. Now 
there were deep rings under his eyes, and the utter de 
pression was sad indeed to behold. 

Doris nearly always ran in the study and gossiped 
girlishly about the morning's employments. Now she 
sauntered out on the porch. There was neither music 
nor writing class. She wondered if she had better sew. 
She was learning to do that quite nicely, but the stock 
ing still remained a puzzle. 

" Doris," said a gentle voice through the open win 
dow; and the sadness pierced her heart. 

She rose and went in. Solomon lay on his cushion in 
the corner, and even he, she thought, had a troubled look 
in his eyes. Uncle Win sat by the table, and there lay 
Gary's letter. 

She put her arms about his neck and pressed her soft 
warm cheek against his, so cool that it startled her. 

" My dear little Doris," he began. " I am childless. 
I have no son. Gary has gone away, against my wishes, 
in the face of my prohibition. I do not suppose he will 
ever return alive. And so I have given him up, Doris " 
his voice failed him. He had meant to say, " You are 
all I have." 

" Uncle Win may I tell you I saw him yesterday in 
the afternoon. And he told me he had enlisted " 

"Oh, then, you know!" The tone somehow grew 
harder. 

" Dear Uncle Win, I think he could not help going. 



302 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

He was very brave. And he was sorry, too. His eyes 

were full of tears while he was talking. And he asked 


me 

"To intercede for him?" 

" No to stay here with you always. He said I was 
like a little sister. And I promised. Uncle Win, if you 
will keep me I will be your little girl all my life long. 
I will never leave you. I love you very dearly. For 
since Uncle Leverett went away I have given you both 
loves." 

She stood there in silence many minutes. Oh, how 
comforting was the clasp of the soft arms about his neck, 
how consoling the dear, assuring voice! 

" Will you tell me about it? " he said at length. 

She was a wise little thing, though I think her chief 
wisdom lay in her desire not to give anyone pain. Some 
few sentences she left out, others she softened. 

" Oh," she said beseechingly, " you will not be angry 
with him, Uncle Winthrop? I think it is very brave and 
heroic in him. It is like some of the old soldiers in the 
Latin stories. I shall study hard now, so I can read 
about them all. And I shall pray all the time that the 
war will come to an end. We shall be so proud and glad 
when he returns. And then you will have two children 
again." 

" Yes we will hope for the war to end speedily. It 
ought never to have begun. What can we do against an 
enemy that has a hundred arms ready to destroy us? 
Little Doris, I am glad to have you." 

Winthrop Adams was not a man to talk over his sor 
rows. He had been wounded to the quick. He had not 
dreamed that his son would disregard his wishes. His 
fatherly pride was up in arms. But he did not turn his 
wounded side to the world. He quietly admitted that 
his son had gone to Annapolis, and received the con- 



THE HIGH RESOLVE OF YOUTH. 303 

gratulations of friends who sincerely believed it was time 
to strike. 

Salem was busy at her wharves, where peaceable 
merchantmen were being transformed into war vessels. 
Charlestown was all astir, and sailors donned the uni 
form proudly. New York and Baltimore joined in the 
general activity. The Constellation was fitting out at 
Norfolk. The Chesapeake, the United States, and the 
President were to be made famous on history's page. 
Privateers without number were hurried to the fore. 

The Constitution had quite a reception in New York, 
and she started out with high endeavors. She had not 
gone far, however, before she found herself followed by 
three British frigates, and among them the Guerriere, 
whose captain Commodore Hull had met in New York. 
To be captured in this manner for fighting against such 
odds would be of no avail was not to be thought of, so 
there was nothing but a race before him. If he could 
reach Boston he would save his ship and his men, and 
somewhere perhaps gain a victory. 

Ah, what a race it was! The men put forth all their 
strength, all their ingenuity. At times it seemed as if 
capture was imminent. By night and by day, trying 
every experiment, working until they dropped from 
sheer fatigue, and after an hour or two of rest going at it 
again Captain Hull kept her well to the windward, and 
with various maneuverings puzzled the pursuers. Then 
Providence favored them with a fine, driving rain, and 
she flew along in the darkness of the night, hardly dar 
ing to hope, but at dawn, after a three days' race, Boston 
was in sight, and her enemies were left behind. 

But that was not in any sense a complete victory, and 
she started out again to face her enemy and conquer if 
she could, for her captain knew the British ship Guerriere 
was lying somewhere in wait for her. Everybody prayed 



304 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

and hoped. Firing was heard, but at such a distance 
from the harbor nothing could be decided. 

The frontier losses had been depressing in the ex 
treme. Boston had hung her flags at half-mast for the 
brave dead. But suddenly a report came that the Con 
stitution had been victorious, and that the Guerriere after 
having been disabled beyond any power of restoration, 
had been sent to a watery grave. 

In a moment it seemed as if the whole town was in a 
transport of joy. Flags were waving everywhere, and a 
gayly decorated flotilla went out in the harbor to greet 
the brave battle-scarred veteran. And when the tale of 
the great victory ran from lip to lip the rejoicing was un 
bounded. A national salute was fired, which was re 
turned from the ship. The streets were in festive array 
and crowded with people who could not restrain their 
wild rejoicing. The Guerriere, which was to drive the in 
solent striped bunting from the face of the seas, had been 
swept away in a brief hour and a half, and the bunting 
waved above her grave. That night the story was told 
over in many a home. The loss of the Constitution had 
been very small compared to that of the Guerriere, which 
Had twenty-three dead and fifty-six wounded; and Cap 
tain Dacres headed the list of prisoners. 

There was a grand banquet at the Exchange Coffee 
House. The freedom of the city was presented to Cap 
tain Hull, and New York sent him a handsome sword. 
Congress voted him a gold medal, and Philadelphia a 
service of plate. 

At one blow the prestige of invincibility claimed for 
the British navy was shattered. And now the Constitu 
tion's earlier escape from the hot chase of the three British 
frigates was understood to be a great race for the nation's 
honor and welfare, as well as for their own lives, and at 
last the baffled pursuers, out-sailed, out-maneuvered, 



THE HIGH RESOLVE OF YOUTH. 305 

dropped behind with no story of success to tell, and were 
to gnaw their hearts in bitterness when they heard of 
this glorious achievement. 

Uncle Winthrop took Doris and Betty out in the car 
riage that they might see the great rejoicing from all 
points. Everywhere one heard bits of the splendid 
action and the intrepidity of Captain Hull and his men. 

" I only wish Gary had been in it," said Betty with 
sparkling eyes. 

Warren told them that when Lieutenant Read came on 
deck with Captain Hull's " compliments, and wished to 
know if they had struck their flag," Captain Dacres re 
plied: 

" Well I don't know. Our mizzenmast is gone, our 
mainmast is gone, and I think you may say on the whole 
that we have struck our flag." 

One of the points that pleased Mr. Adams very much 
was the official report of Captain Dacres, who " wished 
to acknowledge, as a matter of courtesy, that the conduct 
of Captain Hull and his officers to our men had been 
that of a brave enemy; the greatest care being taken to 
prevent our losing the smallest trifle, and the kindest 
attention being paid to the wounded." 

More than one officer was to admit the same fact be 
fore the war ended, even if we did not receive the like 
consideration from our enemies. 

" I only wish Cary had been on the Constitution," said 
Betty eagerly. " I should be proud of the fact to my 
dying day, and tell it over to my grandchildren." 

A tint of color wavered over Uncle Winthrop's pale 
face. No one mentioned Cary, out of a sincere regard 
for his father, except people outside who did not know 
the truth of his sudden departure; though many of his 
young personal friends were aware of his interest and his 
study on the subject. 



306 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

Old Boston had a gala time surely. The flags floated 
for days, and everyone wore a kind of triumphant aspect. 
That her own ship, built with so much native work and 
equipments, should be the first to which a British frigate 
should strike her colors was indeed a triumph. Though 
there were not wanting voices across the sea to say the 
Guerriere should have gone down with flying colors, but 
even that would have been impossible. 

Miss Recompense and Uncle Winthrop began to dis 
cuss Revolutionary times, and Doris listened with a great 
deal of interest. She delighted to identify herself 
strongly with her adopted country, and in her secret 
heart she was proud of Gary, though she could not be 
quite sure he was right in the step he had taken. They 
missed him so much. She tried in many ways to make 
up the loss, and her devotion went to her uncle's heart. 

If they could only hear! Not to know where he was 
seemed so hard to bear. 



CHAPTER XX. 

A VISITOR FOR DORIS. 

P\ORIS was in the little still-room, as it was called a 
*-^ large sort of pantry shelved on one side, and with 
numerous drawers and a kind of dresser with glass doors 
on another. By the window there were a table and the 
dainty little still where Miss Recompense made perfumes 
and extracts. There were boxes of sweet herbs, useful 
ones, bottles of medicinal cordials and salves. Miss 
Recompense Was a " master hand " at such things, and 
the neighbors around thought her as good as a doctor. 

It was so fragrant in this little room that Doris always 
had a vague impression of a beautiful country. She had 
a kind of poetical temperament, and she hoped some day 



A VISITOR FOR DORIS. 307 

to be able to write verses. Helen Chapman had written 
a pretty song for a friend's birthday and had it set to 
music. The quartette sang it so well that the leading 
paper had praised it. There was no one she could con 
fess her secret ambition to, but if she ever did achieve 
anything she would confide in Uncle Winthrop. So she 
sat here with all manner of vague, delightful ideas float 
ing through her brain, steeped with the fragrance of 
balms and odors. 

" Please, 'm," and Dinah stood in the door in all the 
glory of her gay afternoon turban, which seemed to make 
her face more black and shining " Please, 'm, dere's a 
young sojer man jus' come. He got a bundle an' he 
say he got strict d'rections to gib it to missy. An' here's 
de ticket." 

" Oh, for me ! " Doris took it eagerly and read aloud, 
" Lieutenant E. D. Hawthorne." " Oh, Miss Recom 
pense, it's from Gary, I know," and for a moment she 
looked undecided. 

Miss Recompense had on her morning gown, rather 
faded, though she had changed it for dinner. Her 
sleeves were pushed above the elbow, her hands were a 
little stained, and just now she could not leave her con 
coction without great injury to it, though it was evidently 
improper for a child like Doris, or indeed a young lady, 
to see a strange gentleman alone. And Mr. Adams was 
out. 

Doris cut the Gordian knot by flashing through the 
kitchen and entering the lower end of the hall. The 
young man stood viewing " The Destruction of the 
Spanish Armada." But he turned at the sort of bird- 
like flutter and glanced at the vision that all his life long 
he thought the prettiest sight he had ever beheld. 

She had on a simple white frock, though it was one of 
her best, with a narrow embroidered ruffle around the 



308 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

bottom that Madam Royall had given her. When it was 
a little crumpled she put it on for afternoon wear. The 
neck was cut a small square with a bit of edging around 
it, gathered with a pink ribbon tied in a bow in front. 
She still wore her hair in ringlets ; it did not seem to grow 
very fast, but she had been promoted to a pompadour, 
the front hair being brushed up over a cushion. That 
left innumerable short ends to curl in tiny tendrils about 
her forehead. Oddly enough, too, she had on a pink 
apron Betty had made out of the best breadth of a pink 
India lawn frock she had worn out. It had pretty 
pockets with a bow of the same. 

" Miss Doris Adams," exclaimed the young lieutenant. 
" I should have known you in a minute, although you 

are " He paused and flushed, for Gary had said, "She 

isn't exactly handsome, but very sweet-looking with 
pretty, eager eyes and fair hair." He checked himself 
suddenly, understanding the impropriety of paying her 
the compliment on the end of his tongue, but he thought 
her an enchanting picture. " You are larger than I sup 
posed. Adams always said ' My little cousin.' " 

" I was little when I first came. And I have grown 
ever so much this summer since Gary went away. Oh, 
have you seen him? How is he? Where is he?" 

Doris had a soft and curiously musical voice, the sound 
that lingered with a sort of cadence. Her eyes shone in 
eager expectation, her curved red lips were dewy sweet. 

" He is well. He has sailed on the United States as 
midshipman. I saw him at Annapolis indeed, we came 
quite near being on the same vessel. He is a fine young 
fellow, but he doesn't look a day over eighteen. And 
there is a family resemblance," but he thought Doris 
would make a much handsomer young woman than 
Gary would a young man. " And I have a small packet 
for you that I was to deliver to no one else." 



A VISITOR FOR DORIS. 309 

He held it out to her with a smile. It was sealed, and 
was also secured with a bit of cord, which, of course, 
should have been a thread of silk, but we saved our re 
finements of chivalry for other purposes. 

" He is going to make a fine, earnest, patriotic sailor. 
You will never hear anything about him that you need 
be ashamed of. He told me his father wasn't quite recon 
ciled to the step, but after this splendid victory in Boston 
harbor to strain a little point," laughingly, " the town 
may well be proud of the courageous navy. And I hope 
you will hear good news of him. One thing you may be 
sure of he will never show the white feather." 

Oh, how her eyes glistened! There were tears in them 
as well. 

" He described the house to me, and the town. I 
have never been in Boston before, and have come from 
Washington on important business. I return this even 
ing. I don't know when I shall see him again, and let 
ters to vessels are so uncertain. That seems the hardest 
part of it all. But he may happen in this very port be 
fore a great while. One never knows. Believe that I 
am very glad to have the opportunity of coming myself, 
and if in the future I should run across him on the high 
seas or the shore even," smiling again, " I shall feel 
better acquainted and more than ever interested in him. 
There is one great favor I should like to ask could you 
show me the study? Adams talked so much about that 
and his father." 

" It is here." Doris made a pretty gesture with her 
hand, and he walked to the door, glancing around. 
There was the high backed chair by the table with its 
covering of Cordovan leather, and he could imagine the 
father sitting there. 

" One would want a year to journey around these four 
walls," he said with a soft sigh. " A library like this is 



310 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

an uncommon sight. And you study here? Adams said 
you had been such a comfort and pleasure to his father. 
Oh, what a magnificent cat ! " 

" Kitty is mine," said Doris. She crossed over to the 
window, and Solomon rose to his fullest extent, gave a 
comfortable stretch, and rubbed the cheek of his young 
mistress, then arched his back, studied the visitor out of 
sleepy green eyes and began to turn around him three 
times in cat fashion. 

They both laughed at that. Did Doris know what a 
pretty picture she made of herself in her girlish grace? 

" Thank you. What a splendid old hall ! I should 
like to spend a day looking round. But I had only the 
briefest while, and I was afraid I should not get here. 
So I must be satisfied with my glimpse. I shall hope 
that fate will send me this way again when I have more 
leisure. May I pay a visit here? " 

" Oh, yes," returned Doris impulsively. " And I can 
never tell you how glad I am for this," touching the little 
packet caressingly to her cheek. " There isn't any word 
with enough thanks and gratitude in it." 

" I am glad to have earned your gratitude. And now 
I must say farewell, for I know you are impatient to read 
your letter." 

He stepped out on the porch and bowed with a kind of 
courtly grace. Doris realized then that he was a very 
handsome young man. 

" Miss Doris," he paused halfway down the steps, 
" I wonder if I might be so bold as to ask for yonder 
rose the last on its parent stem? " 

Thomas Moore had not yet immortalized " The Last 
Rose of Summer " and given it such pathetic possibilities. 

" Oh, yes," she said. " That is a late-blooming rose 
indeed, it blooms twice in the season." Only this morn 
ing she had gathered a bowl of rose leaves for Miss 



A VISITOR FOR DORIS. 311 

Recompense, and this one had opened since. She broke 
the stem and handed it to him. " It is a very little gift 
for all you have brought me," she added in a soft, heart 
felt tone. 

" Thank you. I shall cherish it sacredly." 

Miss Recompense had hurried and donned a gingham 
gown and a fresh cap. She had come just in time to see 
the gift, and the manner in which the young man received 
it alarmed her. And when he had walked down to the 
street he turned and bowed and made a farewell gesture 
with his hand. 

Doris had nothing to cut the cord around the packet, 
so she bit it with her pretty teeth and tore off the wrap 
per, coming up the steps. Then raising her eyes she 
sprang forward. 

"Oh, dear Miss Recompense, letters, see! A letter 
from Gary all to myself, and one for Uncle Win! I'll 
just put that on his table to be a joyful surprise. And 
may I come and read mine to you? He was in such a 
hurry, though really I did not ask him to stay. Was 
that impolite?" 

" No under the circumstances." She cleared her 
throat a little, but the lecture on propriety would not 
materialize. 

" ' Dear little Doris.' Think of that wouldn't Gary 
be surprised to see how much I have grown! May I sit 
here?" 

Miss Recompense was about to decant some of her 
preparations. Doris took the high stool and read 
eagerly, though now and then a little break came in her 
voice. The journey to Annapolis with half a dozen col 
lege chums bent on the same errand, the being mus 
tered into the country's service and assigned to positions, 
meeting famous people and hearing some thrilling news, 
and at last the order for sailing, were vivid as a picture. 



312 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

She was to let Madam Royall and the household read all 
this, and he sent respectful regard to them all, and real 
love to all the Leveretts. There had been moments 
when he was wild to see them again, but after all he was 
prouder than ever to be of service to his country, who 
needed her bravest sons as much now as in her seven 
years' struggle. 

There was a loose page beginning " For your eyes 
alone, Doris," and she laid it by, for she felt even now 
that she wanted to cry over her brave cousin. Then he 
spoke of Lieutenant Hawthorne, who had been instru 
mental in getting him his appointment, and who had 
undertaken to see that this would reach her safely. And 
so many farewells, as if he could hardly say the very last 
one. 

Miss Recompense wiped her eyes and stepped about 
softly, as if her whole body was pervaded with a new 
tenderness. She made little comments to restore the 
equilibrium, so that neither would give way to undue 
emotion. 

" Miss Recompense, do you think I might run up to 
Aunt Elizabeth's with my letter? They will all want to 
hear." 

" Why I see no objections, child. And then if you 
wanted to go to Madam Royall's but I think they will 
keep you to tea at Sudbury Street. Let Betty or War 
ren walk home with you. Take off your apron." 

Doris read half a dozen lines of her own personal letter 
and laid it in the bottom of her workbox, that had come 
from India, and had a subtle fragrance. She did not 
want to cry in real earnest, as she felt she should, with 
all these references to Uncle Win. She tied on her hat 
and said " Good-afternoon," and really did run part of the 
way. 

They were just overflowing with joy to hear, only 



A VISITOR FOR DORIS. 313 

Betty said, " What a shame Gary had to go before the 
glorious news of the Constitution! There was a chance 
of two days after he had written his letter, so he might 
have heard." Postage was high at that time and mails 
uncertain, so letters and important matters were often 
trusted to private hands. Then Lieutenant Hawthorne 
had not gone to Boston as soon as he expected. 

Betty had some news too. Mr. and Mrs. King were 
going to Washington, perhaps for the greater part of the 
winter. 

As they walked home Betty rehearsed her perplexities 
to Doris. It was odd how many matters were confided 
to this girl of thirteen, but she seemed so wise and sen 
sible and sympathetic. 

" If it wasn't quite such hard times, and if Warren 
could marry and bring Mercy home! She's an excellent 
housekeeper, just the wife for a struggling young man, 
mother admits. But whether she would like it, and 
whether Aunt Priscilla would feel comfortable, are the 
great questions. She's been so good to Warren. Mary 
badgered him dreadfully about her part. If Mary was a 
little more like Electa! " 

Warren had been keeping company with Mercy Oil 
man for the last year. She was a bright, cheerful, indus 
trious girl, well brought up, and the engagement was 
acceptable to both families. Young people paid more 
deference to their elders then. Warren felt that he 
could not go away from home, and surely there was room 
enough if they could all agree. 

" It's odd how many splendid things come to Electa, 
though it may be because she is always willing to take 
advantage of them. They have rented their house in 
New York and are to take some rooms in Washington. 
Bessy and Leverett are to be put in school, and she takes 
the two little ones. Their meals are to be sent in from 



314 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

a cook shop. Of course she can't be very gay, being in 
mourning. Everybody says Mrs. Madison is so charm- 
ing." 

" Oh, I wish you could go," sighed Doris. 

" And Mary is always wondering why I do not come 
and stay with her, and sew and help along. Oh, Doris, 
what if I should be the old maid aunt and go visiting 
round! For there hasn't a soul asked me to keep com 
pany yet," and Betty laughed. But she was not very 
anxious on the subject. 

They reached the corner and kissed each other good 
night. Miss Recompense sat on the stoop with a little 
shawl about her shoulders. She drew Doris down beside 
her and inquired about her visit. 

While there was much that was stern and hard and 
reticent in the Puritan character, there was also an innate 
delicacy concerning the inward life. They made few 
appeals to each other's sympathies. Perhaps this very 
reserve gave them strength to endure trials heroically 
and not burden others. 

Miss Recompense had judged wisely that Mr. Adams 
would prefer to receive his missive alone. His first re 
mark had been the usual question : 

"Where is Doris?" 

" Oh, we have had quite an adventure a call from a 
young naval officer. Here is his card. He brought 
letters to you and Doris, and she was eager to take hers 
over to Betty. She will stay to supper." 

He scrutinized the card while his breath came in 
strangling gasps, but he preserved his composure out 
wardly. 

" Did you did he " pausing confusedly. 

" I did not see him," returned Miss Recompense 
quietly. " I was not in company trim, and he asked for 
Doris. I dare say he thought her a young lady." 



A VISITOR FOR DORIS. 315 

" Is he staying in Boston? " fingering the card irreso 
lutely. 

" He was to return to Washington at once. He had 
come on some urgent business." 

Mr. Adams went through to his study. He looked at 
the address some moments before he broke the seal, but 
he found the first lines reassuring. 

"Will you have supper now?" asked Miss Recom 
pense from the doorway. 

" If convenient, yes." He laid down his letter and 
came out in the hall. " Doris told you all her news, I 
suppose?" 

" She read me her letter. Gary seems to be in good 
spirits and position. He spoke very highly of Lieutenant 
Hawthorne." 

" The accounts seem very satisfactory." 

Then they went out to the quiet supper. A meal was 
not the same without Doris. 

All the evening he had remained in his room, reading 
his son's letter more than once and lapsing into deep 
thought over it. He heard the greetings now, and came 
out, inquiring after the folks in Sudbury Street, sitting 
down on the step and listening with evident pleasure to 
Doris' eager chat. It was bedtime when they dispersed. 

" Uncle Win," Doris said the next morning, " there is 
a page in my letter I would like you to read. And do 
you think I might go home with Eudora and take dinner 
at Madam Royall's? Gary sent them some messages." 

" Yes, child," he made answer. 

They were indeed very glad, but like Betty they could 
not help wishing he had been on the famous Constitution. 
Alice was particularly interested, and said she should 
watch the career of the United States. 

After that the ice seemed broken and no one hesitated 
to mention Gary. But Mr. Winthrop said to Doris: 



316 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

" My dear child, will you give me this leaf of your 
letter. I know Gary did not mean it for my eyes, but it 
is very precious to me. Doris, how comes it that you 
find the way to everybody's heart? " 

"And you will forgive him, Uncle Win? He was so 
brave " Her voice trembled. 

" I have forgiven him, Doris. If I should never see 
him again, you are young and most likely will, assure 
him there never was a moment that I ceased to love him. 
Perhaps I have not taken as much pains to understand 
him as I might have. I suppose different influences act 
upon the new generation. If we should both live to 
welcome him back " 

" Oh, we must, Uncle Win." 

" If he has you " Oh, what was he saying? 

" You will both have me. I shall stay here always." 

He stooped and kissed her. 

The other alternative, that Gary might not return, they 
banished resolutely. But it drew them nearer together 
in unspoken sympathy. 

Everybody noted how thin and frail-looking Mr. 
Adams had grown. Doris became his constant com 
panion. She had a well-trained horse now, and they 
rode a good deal. Or they walked down Washington 
street, where there were some pretty shops, and met 
promenaders. They sauntered about Cornhill, where 
Uncle Win picked up now and then an odd book, and 
they discovered strange things that had belonged to the 
Old Boston of a hundred years agone. There was quite 
an art gallery in Cornhill kept by Dogget & Williams 
the nucleus of great things to come. It was quite the 
fashion for young ladies to drop in and exercise their 
powers of budding criticism or love of art. Now and 
then someone lent a portrait of Smibert's or Copley's, or 



A VISITOR FOR DORIS. 317 

you found some fine German or English engravings. 
An elder person generally accompanied the younger 
people. The law students, released from their labors, or 
the young society men, would walk home beside the 
chaperone, but talk to the maidens. 

Then Uncle Winthrop committed a piece of great 
extravagance, everybody said especially in such times 
as these, when the British might take and destroy Bos 
ton. This was buying a pianoforte. Madam Royall ap 
proved, for Doris was learning to play very nicely. An 
old German musician, Gottlieb Graupner, who was quite 
a visitor at the Royall house, had imported it for a friend 
who had been nearly ruined by war troubles and was 
compelled to part with it. Mr. Graupner and a knot of 
musical friends used to meet Saturday evenings in old 
Pond Street, and with a few instruments made a sort of 
orchestra. As a very great favor, friends were occa 
sionally invited in. 

There was a new organist at Trinity Church, a Mr. 
Jackson, who was trying to bring in the higher class 
cathedral music. The choir of Park Street Church, some 
fifty in number, was considered one of the great successes 
of the day, and people flocked to hear it. Puritan 
music had been rather doleful and depressing. 

There was quite a discussion as to where the piano 
should stand. They had very little call to use the parlor 
in winter. Uncle Winthrop's friends generally visited 
him in the study. The spacious hall was the ordinary 
living-room, and Doris begged that it might be kept 
here for the winter, at least. 

Oh, what a cheerful sound the music made in the old 
house! Uncle Win would bring out a book of poems, 
often Milton's " L' Allegro " and half read, half listen, to 
the entrancing combination. Dinah declared " It was 



3i8 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

like de w'ice ob de Angel Gabriel hisself." Miss Recom 
pense enjoyed the grand old hymns that brought back 
her childhood. 

Solomon at first made a vigorous protest. He seemed 
jealous of the pretty fingers gliding over the keys, and 
would spring up to cover them or rest on her arms. But 
when he found he was banished to the kitchen every 
evening, he began to consider and presently gave in. 
He would sit beside Uncle Win in dignified protest, look 
ing very " dour," as a Scotchman would say. 

And then the country was electrified with the news of 
another great victory. Off the Canary Islands, Captain 
Decatur, with the frigate United States, met the Mace 
donian, one of the finest of the British fleet. The fight 
had been at close quarters with terrific broadsides. After 
an hour and a half, with her fighting force disabled, the 
Macedonian struck her colors. Her loss in men killed and 
wounded was over one hundred, and the United States 
lost five killed and seven wounded. 

The American vessel brought her prize and prisoners 
into port amid general acclaim. The Macedonian was re 
paired and added to the fast-increasing navy, that was 
rapidly winning a world-wide reputation. And when 
she came up to New York early in January with " The 
compliments of the season," there was great rejoicing. 
Samuel Woodworth, printer and poet, wrote the song of 
the occasion, and Calvert, another poet, celebrated the 
event in an ode. 

Captain Garden was severely censured by his own 
government, as Captain Dacres had been, for not going 
down with flying colors instead of allowing his flag to 
be captured and his ship turned to the enemy's advan 
tage. Instead of jeering at the navy of " pine boards and 
striped bunting," it was claimed the American vessels 
were of superior size and armament and met the British 



A VISITOR FOR DORIS. 319 

at unfair advantage, and that they were largely manned 
by English sailors. 

There was an enthusiastic note from Gary. He was 
well, and it had been a glorious action. Captain Garden 
had been a brave gentleman, and he said regretfully, 
" Oh, why do we have to fight these heroic men! " 

But Betty had the letter of triumph this time. Mrs. 
King was a delightful correspondent, though she was 
always imploring Betty to join her. 

There had been a ball and reception given to several 
naval officers who were soon to go away. The Presi 
dent, engaged with some weighty affairs, had not come in 
yet, but the Secretary of the Navy, Mr. Hamilton, and no 
end of military and naval men, in gold lace and epaulettes 
and gleaming swords, were present, and beautiful, 
enthusiastic women in shimmering silks and laces. One 
did not have to get a new gown for every occasion in 
those days. 

There was a little lull in the dancing. Mrs. Madison, 
who was charmingly affable, was seated with a group of 
men about her, when there was a stir in the hall, and a 
sudden thrill of expectancy quivered through the apart 
ment. Ensign Hamilton, son of the Secretary, and sev 
eral midshipmen entered, and the young man went 
straight to his father with the captured flag of the Mace 
donian. Such a cheer as rent the air! Ladies wiped their 
eyes and then waved their handkerchiefs in the wild burst 
of joy. They held the flag over the heads of the chief 
officer while the band played " Hail, Columbia! " Then 
it was laid at the feet of Mrs. Madison, who accepted it in 
the name of the country with a charming and graceful 
speech. Afterward it was festooned on the wall with the 
flag of the Guerriere. 

" So, you see, Gary has been the hero of a great vic 
tory," said Betty enthusiastically; " but we all wish it had 



320 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

been ' off Boston Light ' instead of on the distant ocean. 
And it is a shame not to be in Washington. Electa seems 
to be going everywhere and seeing everything, ' in spite 
of her being the mother of four children/ as Aunt Pris- 
cilla says. And the ladies dress so beautifully. We 
shall come to be known as ' plain Boston ' presently." 

There was no Worth or Pingat to charge enormous 
prices. Patterns were passed around. Ladies went 
visiting and took their sleeves along to make, or their 
ruffles to plait, and altered over their brocades and pad- 
uasoys and crapes, and some darned Brussels " footing " 
until it was transformed into really handsome lace. 
They could clean their feathers and ribbons, and one 
wonders how they found time for so many things. They 
were very good letter writers too. Dolly Madison and 
Mrs. Adams are fresh and interesting to-day. 

But Boston could rejoice, nevertheless. To the little 
girl Gary was invested with the attributes of a hero. He 
even looked different to her enchanted eyes. 

Uncle Win used to smile with grave softness when she 
chattered about him. At first it had given him a heart 
ache to hear Gary's name mentioned, but now it was like 
a strain of comforting music. Only he wondered how 
he ever would have lived without the little girl from Old 
Boston. 

She used to play and sing "Hail, Columbia!" for 
people were patriotic then. But the sweetest of all were 
the old-fashioned ones that his wife had sung as a young 
girl, daintily tender love songs. Sometimes he tried 
them with her, but his voice sounded to himself like a 
pale ghost out of the past, yet it still had a mournful 
sweetness. 

But with the rejoicing we had many sorrows. Our 
northern frontier warfare had been full of defeats; 1813 
opened with various misfortunes. Ports were blockaded, 



A VISITOR FOR DORIS. 321 

business dropped lower and lower. Still social life went 
on, and in a tentative way intellectual life was making 
some progress. 

The drama was not neglected either. The old Bos 
ton Theater gave several stirring representations that 
to-day would be called quite realistic. One was the 
capture of the Guerriere with officers, sailors and marines, 
and songs that aroused drooping patriotism. Perhaps 
the young people of that time enjoyed it as much as their 
grandchildren did " H. M. S. Pinafore." 

Doris liked the rare musical entertainments. People 
grew quite used to seeing Mr. Winthrop Adams with the 
pretty, bright, growing girl, who might have been his 
daughter. It was a delight to her when anyone made the 
mistake. Occasionally an old gentleman remembered 
her grandfather, and the little boy Charles who went to 
England. 

Then in the early summer Mrs. King came on for a 
visit, and brought her eldest child Bessy, a bright, well- 
trained little girl. 

There had been a good deal of trouble at the Man 
nings', and grandmother had gone back and forth, mak 
ing it very confining for Betty. Crops had proved poor 
in the autumn; the children had the measles and Mrs. 
Manning a run of fever. Elizabeth had taken a cold in 
the early fall and had a troublesome cough all winter. 
Mrs. Leverett wanted to bring her home for a rest, but 
Mrs. Manning could not spare her, with all the summer 
work, and the warm weather would set her up, she was 
quite sure. 

The country was drawing a brief breath of relief. 
There had been the magnificent victories on the Lakes 
and some on the land, and now and then came cheering 
news of naval successes. Everybody was in better 
spirits. Mrs. King seemed to bring a waft of hope from 



322 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

the Capital itself, and the Leverett house was quite en 
livened with callers. Invitations came in for dinners and 
suppers and evening parties. Madam Royall quite 
claimed her on the strength of the Adams relation, and 
also Doris, who was such a favorite. Doris and little 
Bessy fraternized at once, and practiced a duet for the 
entertainment of Uncle Winthrop, who praised them 
warmly. 

She planned to take Betty back to New York with her. 

"But I can't go," declared Betty. "Warren must 
not be taxed any more heavily, so there would be no hope 
of having help, and mother cannot be left alone." 

" Is there any objection to Mercy coming? Why 
doesn't Warren marry? That would relieve you all. I 
suppose it is best for young people to have a home by 
tfiemselves, but if it isn't possible and I'd like to know 
how we are going to get along in heaven if we can't agree 
with each other here on earth ! " Mrs. King inquired. 

" That sounds like father," said Betty laughingly, yet 
the tears came to her eyes. " Poor father! He did not 
suppose we would have such hard times. If the war 
would only end. You see," after a pause, " we are 
not quite sure of Aunt Priscilla. She's changed and 
softened wonderfully, and she and mother get along so 
well. She insisted upon paying a generous board, and 
she was good to Warren." 

" I must talk it over with mother. There is no need 
of having your life spoiled, Betty." 

For Betty was a very well-looking girl, arch and viva 
cious, and her harvest time of youth must not be wasted. 
Mrs. King was really glad she had no entanglement. 

Mrs. Leverett had no objections to a speedy marriage 
if Mercy could be content. Warren had thought if he 
could be prosperous he would like to buy out Betty's 
share if she married. " And my share will be mine as 



A VISITOR FOR DORIS. 323 

long as I live," added the mother. " But Warren is fond 
of the old house, and Hollis has a home of his own. You 
girls will never want it." 

Warren was delighted with what he called " Lecty's 
spunk." For Aunt Priscilla agreed quite readily. It 
was dull for Betty with two old people. Mercy would 
have her husband. 

So the wedding day was appointed. Mercy had been a 
year getting ready. Girls began soon after they were 
engaged. Mrs. Oilman was rather afraid the thing 
wouldn't work, but she was sure Mercy was good tem 
pered, and she had been a good daughter. 

They made quite a " turning round." Mrs. Leverett 
went upstairs to Betty's room, which adjoined Aunt Pris- 
cilla's, and she gave some of her furniture for the adorn 
ment of the bridal chamber. 

It was a very quiet wedding with a few friends and a 
supper. At nine o'clock the new wife went to Sudbury 
Street. Mrs. Gilman had some rather strict ideas, and 
declared it was no time for frolicking when war was at 
our very door, and no one knew what might happen, 
and hundreds of families were in pinching want. 

Mercy was up the next morning betimes and assisted 
her new mother with the breakfast. Warren went down 
to his shop. But they had quite an elaborate tea drink 
ing at the Leveretts', and some songs and games in the 
evening. Mercy did enjoy the wider life. 

Mrs. Manning had come in for the wedding and a few 
days' stay, though she didn't see how she could be spared 
just now, and things would get dreadfully behindhand. 
Mrs. King was to go home with her and make a little 
visit. Bessy thought she would rather stay with Doris, 
and she was captivated with the Royall House and Eu- 
dora. The children never seemed in the way of the 
grown people there, and if elderly men talked politics 



324 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

and city improvements, quite visionary, some thought 
them, the young people with Alice and Helen had the 
garden walks and the wide porch, and discussed the en 
joyments of the time with the zest of enthusiastic inex 
perience but keen delight. 



CHAPTER XXI. 

ELIZABETH AND PEACE. 

JVARS. KING brought back Elizabeth Manning, a pale, 
* * slim ghost of a girl, tall for her age indeed, really 
grown up, her mother said. Of the three girls Bessy 
King had the most indications of the traditional country 
girl. A fine clear skin, pink cheeks and a plump figure, 
and an inexhausible flow of spirits, ready for any fun or 
frolic. 

Doris was always well, but she had the Adams com 
plexion, which was rather pale, with color when she was 
warm, or enthusiastic or indignant. The pink came and 
went like a swift summer cloud. 

" I do declare," exclaimed Aunt Priscilla, " if 'Lecty 
King doesn't beat all about getting what she wants, and 
making other people believe they want it, too! War,ren 
might as well have been married in the winter, and Mercy 
would have been company for Betty. She never liked to 
run out and leave me alone. Mercy seems a nice, promis 
ing body, and Warren might as well be happy and settled 
as not. And 'Lecty's been to Washington and dined 
with the President and Mrs. Madison, and I'll venture to 
say there was something the President's wife consulted 
her about. And all the big captains and generals, and 
what not! And here's the quality of Boston running 
after her and asking her out just as if we had nothing to 



ELIZABETH AND PEACE. 325 

feed her on at home. She don't do anything, fursisee, 
but just look smiling and talk. But my opinion is that 
Elizabeth Manning hasn't a very long journey to the 
graveyard. I don't see what Mary's been thinking 
about." 

Mrs. King took her niece to Dr. Jackson, one of the 
best medical authorities of that day, and he looked the 
young girl over with his keen eyes. 

" If you want the real truth," said the doctor, " she has 
had too much east wind and too much hard work. The 
children of this generation are not going to stand what 
their mothers did. A bad cold or two next winter will 
finish her, but with care and no undue exposure she may 
live several years. But she will never reach the three 
score and ten that every human being has a right to." 

Uncle Winthrop sent the carriage around every day to 
the Leveretts'. They had given up theirs before Mr. 
Leverett's death. He and Doris took their morning 
horseback rides and scoured the beautiful country places 
for miles around, until Doris knew every magnificent 
tree or unusual shrub or queer old house and its history. 
These hours were a great delight to him. 

Elizabeth had often gone down to Salem town, but her 
time was so brief and there was so much to do that she 
" couldn't bother." And she wondered how Doris knew 
about the shops in Essex Street and Federal Street and 
Miss Rust's pretty millinery show, and Mr. John Innes' 
delicate French rolls and braided bread, and Molly Saun- 
ders' gingerbread that the school children devoured, and 
the old Forrester House with its legends and fine old 
pictures and the lovely gardens, the wharves with their 
idle fleets that dared not put out to sea for fear of being 
swallowed up by the enemy. 

Uncle Winthrop had taken her several times when 
some business had called him thither. But, truth to tell, 



326 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

she had never cared to repeat her visit to Mrs. Man 
ning's. 

The piano was like a bit of heaven, Elizabeth thought, 
the first time she came over to visit Doris. 

" Oh," she said, with a long sigh, pressing her hand 
on her heart, for the deep breaths always hurt her, " if I 
was only prepared to go to heaven I shouldn't want to 
stay here a day longer. When they sing about ' eternal 
rest ' it seems such a lovely thing, and to ' lay your bur 
dens down.' But then there's ' the terrors of the law,' 
and the ' judgments to come,' and the great searching of 
the hearts and reins do you know just what the reins 
are?" 

No, Doris didn't. Heaven had always seemed a 
lovely place to her and God like a father, only grander 
and tenderer than any human father could be. 

Then they talked about praying, and it came out that 
Doris said her mother's prayers still in French and her 
father's in English. 

"Oh," exclaimed Elizabeth, horrified, "I shouldn't 
dare to pray to God in French it would seem like a 
mockery. And * Now I lay me down to sleep ' is just a 
baby prayer, and really isn't pouring out your own soul 
to God." 

Doris asked Uncle Winthrop about it. 

" My child," he said with grave sweetness, " you can 
never say any better prayers of your own. The Saviour 
himself gave us the comprehensive Lord's Prayer. And 
are all the nations of the earth who cannot pray in Eng 
lish offering God vain petitions? You will find as you 
grow older that no earnest soul ever worships God in 
vain, and that religion is a life-long work. I am learning 
something new about it every day. And I think God 
means us to be happy here on earth. He doesn't save all 
the joys for heaven. He has given me one," and he 



ELIZABETH AND PEACE. 327 

stooped and kissed Doris on the forehead. " Poor Eliza 
beth," he added " make her as happy as you can! " 

When Mrs. King proposed to take Betty to New York 
for the whole of the coming winter there was consterna 
tion, but no one could find a valid objection. It was a 
somewhat expensive journey, and winter was a very en 
joyable season in the city. Then another year some 
thing new might happen to prevent there was no time 
like the present. 

No one had the courage to object, though they did not 
know how to spare her. Aunt Priscilla sighed and 
brought out some beautiful long-laid-away articles that 
Electa declared would make over admirably. 

"Where do you suppose Aunt Priscilla picked up all 
these elegant things?" asked Electa. " I never remem 
ber seeing her wear them, though she always dressed 
well, but severely plain. And Uncle Perkins was quite 
strict about the pomps and vanities of the world." 

And so Aunt Priscilla put away the last of her idols 
and the life she had coveted and never had. But perhaps 
the best of all was her consideration for others, the cer 
tainty that it was quite as well to begin some of the vir 
tues of the heavenly world here on earth that they might 
not seem strange to one. 

Mrs. Manning sent in for Elizabeth. 

" Well you do seem like a different girl," her father 
declared, looking her over from head to foot. " You've 
had a good rest now, and you'll have to turn in strong 
and hearty, for Sarah's gone, and Ruth isn't big enough 
to take hold of everything. So hunt up your things 
while I'm doing some trading." 

Elizabeth only had time for the very briefest fare 
wells. Mrs. King sent a little note containing the doc 
tor's verdict, but Mrs. Manning was indignant rather 
than alarmed. 



328 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

It was lonesome when they were all gone. Eudora 
Chapman went to a " finishing school " this autumn, and 
Doris accompanied her poor Doris, who had not mas 
tered fractions, and whose written arithmetic could not 
compare with Betty's. She had achieved a pair of stock 
ings after infinite labor and trouble. They did look 
rowy, being knit tighter and looser. But Aunt Priscilla 
gave her a pair of fine merino that she had kept from the 
ravages of the moths. Miss Recompense declared that 
she had no one else to knit for. 

There were expert knitters who made beautiful silk 
stockings, and Uncle Winthrop said buying helped along 
trade, so why should Doris worry when there were so 
many more important matters? 

The little girl and her uncle kept track of what was 
going on in the great world. Napoleon the invincible 
had been driven back from Russia by cold and famine, 
forced to yield by the great coalition and losing step by 
step until he was compelled to accept banishment. Then 
England redoubled her efforts, prepared to carry on the 
war with us vigorously. Towns on the Chesapeake 
were plundered and burned, and General Ross entered 
Washington, from which Congress and the President's 
family had fled for their lives. America was again hor 
ror stricken, but gathering all her energies she made such 
a vigorous defense as to convince her antagonist that 
though cast down she could never be wholly defeated. 

But this attack gave us the inspiration of one of our 
finest deathless songs. A Mr. Francis S. Key, a resident 
of Georgetown, had gone down from Baltimore with a 
flag of truce to procure the release of a friend held as 
prisoner of war, when the bombardment of Fort 
McHenry began. All day long he watched the flag as it 
floated above the ramparts. Night came on and it was 
still there. And at midnight he could see it only by " the 



ELIZABETH AND PEACE. 329 

rockets' red glare," while he and his friends tremulously 
inquired if the " flag still waved o'er the Land of the 
Free." Oh, what joy must have been his when it 
" caught the gleam of the morning's first beam." He 
had put the night watch and the dawn in a song that is 
still an inspiration. 

And now convinced, the enemy withdrew. There 
were talks of peace, though we did not abate our ener 
gies. And the indications of a settlement brought about 
another wedding at the Royall house. 

Miss Alice had been a great favorite with the young 
men, and her ardent patriotism had inspired more than 
one, as it had Gary Adams, with a desire to rush to his 
country's defense. There were admirers too, but most 
of them had been kept at an intangible distance. At last 
she had yielded to the eloquence of young Oliver Sar 
gent, who was in every way acceptable. Grandmother 
Royall expected to give her an elegant wedding along in 
the winter. 

The Government was to send out another commis 
sioner to consult with those already at Ghent, and Mr. 
Sargent had been offered the post of private secretary. 
He was to sail from New York, but he obtained leave to 
spend a few days in Boston to attend to some affairs. 
He went at once to Madam Royall and laid his plans be 
fore her. He wanted to marry Alice and take her with 
him, as he might be gone a long while. Alice was noth 
ing loath, for the journey abroad was extremely tempting. 

But what could one do in such a few days? And 
wedding clothes 

" Save the wedding gear until we come back," said the 
impatient young lover. " Alice can get clothes enough 
abroad." 

It was quite a new departure in a wedding. Invita 
tions were always sent out by hand, even for small even- 



330 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

ing parties, and often verbally given. A private marriage 
would not have suited old Madam Royall. So the house 
was crowded at eleven in the morning, and the bride 
came through the wide hall in a mulberry-colored satin 
gown and pelisse that had been made two weeks before 
for ordinary autumn wear. But her bonnet was white 
with long streamers, and her gloves were white, and she 
made a very attractive bride, while young Sargent was 
manly and looked proud enough for a king. At twelve 
they went away with no end of good wishes, and an old 
slipper was thrown after the carriage. 

Mrs. Morris Winslow had two babies, and was already 
growing stout. But the departure of Alice made a great 
break. 

" But it is the way of the world and the way of God 
that young people should marry," said Madam Royall. 
" I was very happy myself." 

" Oh," exclaimed Doris eagerly that evening, her eyes 
aglow and her cheeks pink with excitement " oh, Uncle 
Win, do you think there will be peace? " 

" My little girl, it is my prayer day and night." 

" And then Gary will come home." 

It had been a long while since they had heard. Gary 
had been transferred from the United States, that had 
lain blockaded in a harbor many weary weeks. But 
where he was now no one could tell. 

People began to take heart though the righting had 
not ceased. And it was odd that a dozen years before 
everybody had looked askance at dancing, and now no 
one hesitated to give a dancing party. The contra-dance 
and cotillions were all the rage. Sometimes there was 
great amusement when it was a draw dance, for then you 
had to accept your partner whether or no. 

Whole families went, grandmothers and grandchil 
dren. There were cards and conversation circles for 



ELIZABETH AND PEACE. 331 

those who did not care to join the mazy whirls. And the 
suppers were quite elegant, with brilliant lamps and 
flowers, plate and glass that had come through genera 
tions. Fruits and melons were preserved as long as pos 
sible, and a Turkish band in fine Oriental costume 
was often a feature of the entertainment. 

Doris had charming letters from Betty, a little stilted 
we should call them now, but very interesting. Mr. 
King was confident of peace. Doris used to read them 
to Aunt Priscilla, who said Betty was very frivolous, but 
that she always had a good time, and perhaps good times 
were not as wicked as people used to think. 

Mrs. Leverett went to Salem in November. Her 
namesake had taken a cold and had some fever, and she 
asked for grandmother continually. Mercy did finely at 
housekeeping, and so the weeks ran along, the invalid 
being better, then worse, and just before Christmas the 
frail little life floated out to the Land of Rest. 

"Oh, poor little Elizabeth!" cried Doris. "If she 
could have been real happy! But there never seemed 
any time. Uncle Win, they are not so poor that they 
have to work so hard, are they? " 

" No, dear. Mr. Manning has money out at interest, 
besides his handsome farm. But a great many people 
think there is solid virtue in working and saving. I sup 
pose it makes them happy." 

Doris was puzzled. She said the same thing to Aunt 
Priscilla, who took off her glasses, rubbed them with a 
bit of old silk and wiped the tears out of her eyes. 

" I think we haven't had quite the right end of it," she 
began after a pause. " I was brought up that way. But 
then people had to spin and weave for themselves, and 
help the men with the out-of-doors work. The children 
dropped corn, and potatoes, and there was always weed 
ing. There was so much spring work and fall work, and 



332 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

folks couldn't be comfortable if they saw a child playing 
' cat's cradle.' They did think Satan was going about 
continually to catch up idle hands. Well maybe if I'd 
had children I'd 'a' done the same way." 

" Oh, you wouldn't, Aunt Priscilla, I know," said Doris 
with the sweetest faith shining in her eyes. " Elizabeth 
thought you such a comfortable old lady. She said you 
never worried at anyone." 

" That is because I have come to believe the worrying 
wrong. The Lord didn't worry at people. He told 
them what to do and then he let them alone. And Fos 
ter Leverett was about the best man I ever knew. He 
didn't even worry when times were so bad. Everybody 
said his children would be spoiled. They were out sled 
ding and sliding and skating, and playing tag in summer. 
They've made nice men and women." 

" Oh, I remember how friendly he looked that day he 
came on the vessel. And how he said to Captain Grier, 
' Is there a little girl for me that has come from Old 
Boston? ' He might have said something else, you 
know. ' A little girl for me ' was such a sweet welcome, 
I have never forgotten it." 

" Yes I was here the night you came. We had been 
waiting. And the red cloak and big bonnet with the 
great bow under your chin, and a silk frock " 

" Did I look very queer? " Doris laughed softly. 

" You looked like a picture, though that wan't my idea 
of what children should be." 

" Miss Recompense has them put away to keep. I 
outgrew them, you know. What would you have done 
with me? " 

Aunt Priscilla's pale face wrinkled up and then 
smoothed out. 

" I've come to the conclusion the Lord knows his busi 
ness best and is capable of attending to it. When we 



ELIZABETH AND PEACE. 333 

meddle we make a rather poor fist of it. Betty has a lot 
of morning-glories out there," nodding her head, " and I 
said to her ' They're poor frail things : why not put out a 
hop vine or red beans? They can't stand a bit of sun, 
like Jonah's gourd.' But she only laughed her father 
had that way when he didn't want to argue. When they 
came to bloom they were sights to behold, like the early 
morning when the sun is rising, and you see such beauti 
ful colors. They used to nod to each other and swing 
back and forth, like people coming to call, then they 
said good-by and were off. The Lord meant 'em just to 
look pretty and they did." 

" Uncle Win likes them so much. Miss Recompense 
had a whole lattice full of them. Oh, did you mean I was 
like a morning glory? Haven't I some other uses? " 

" You're always fresh and blossoming every day. 
That's a use. You come in with a little greeting that 
warms one's heart. You were a great delight to Uncle 
Leverett, and I don't know what Uncle Winthrop would 
have done without you, Gary being away. And how 
Solomon took to you, when he was awful shy of stran 
gers ! He must have liked you uncommon to be willing 
to stay in a strange place, for cats cannot bear to be 
moved about. Maybe 'twould been the same if you had 
not been so pretty to look at, but the Lord made you the 
way he wanted you, and you haven't spoiled yourself a 
bit." 

Doris blushed. Compliments were quite a new thing 
with Aunt Priscilla. 

"What would you have done with me?" Doris asked 
again, after a long pause. 

" You won't like to hear it. I ought to confess it be 
cause it was a sin, a sort of meddling with the Lord's 
plans. You see, I'd taken it in my head that someone 
would have to give you a home. It didn't seem as if 



334 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

that old ma'shland would be good for anything, and I 
knew your father wasn't rich. Winthrop Adams was 
one of the finicky kind and quite put about to know 
what to do with you. So I thought if there didn't any 
place open, for Elizabeth Leverett was quite wrapped up 
in her grandchildren, that " hesitatingly " when things 
were straightened out a bit, I'd offer " 



That would have been good of you- 



" No, it wasn't goodness," interrupted Aunt Priscilla. 
" I thought I should want someone, with Polly getting 
old. I'd have expected you to work, though I'd have 
done the fair thing by you, and left you some money in 
the end. I was a little jealous when everybody took to 
you so. I was sure you'd be spoiled. And, though 
you've got that music thing and go among the quality, 
and are pretty as a pink, and Winthrop Adams thinks 
you a nonesuch, you come in here in plain everyday 
fashion and talk and read and make it sunshiny for every 
body. So, you see, the Lord knew, and it is just as if he 
said, ' Priscilla Perkins, your way doesn't suit at all. 
There's something in the world besides work and saving 
money. There's room enough in the world for a hill of 
potatoes and a morning-glory made of silk and dew if it 
doesn't bloom but just one morning. It's a smile, and 
there are others to follow, and it is a thousand times 
better than frowns.' " 

" And if there had been no money, and I had wanted a 
Home, would you have given me one? " she asked in a 
soft, tremulous tone. 

" Yes, child. And I couldn't have worked you quite 
like poor little Elizabeth was worked. I didn't think 
there was so much money, or that that lady in England 
would have left you a legacy or that Winthrop Adams 
would come to believing that he couldn't live without 
you." 



ELIZABETH AND PEACE. 335 

" Then you were kind to have a plan about it, and I 
am glad to know it." 

She had been sitting on Aunt Priscilla's footstool, but 
she rose and twined her arms about the shrunken neck, 
and kissed the wrinkled forehead. She saw a homeless 
little girl going to sheltering care, with a kindly remem 
brance at the last. Someone else might have thought of 
the exactions. 

" You make the thing look better than it was," Aunt 
Priscilla cried with true humility. " But the Lord put 
you in the right place." 

She saw the mean and selfish desire, the wish to get 
rid of a faithful old woman who might prove a burden. 
It was a sin like the finery she had longed for and bought 
and laid away. She had not worn the finery, she had 
not sent away the poor black soul, she had not been 
a hard taskmistress to the child, but early training 
had added the weight of possible sins to the actual 
ones. 

Christmas morning Doris was surprised by a lovely 
gift. In a small box by her plate, with best wishes from 
Uncle Winthrop, lay a watch and chain, a dainty thing 
with just " Doris " on the plain space in the center that 
overlay another name that had once been there. It had 
undergone some renovation at the jeweler's hands, after 
lying untouched more than twenty years. Winthrop 
Adams had kept it for a possible granddaughter, but he 
knew now no one could cherish it more tenderly than 
Doris. 

January, 1815, came in. People counted the days. 
But it was not until the middle of February that Boston 
town was one morning electrified by the ringing of bells 
and the shouts of men and boys, who ran along the 
streets crying " Peace! Peace! Peace!" Windows were 
raised ; people ran out, so eager were they. Of all glori- 



336 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

ous words ever uttered none fell with such music on the 
air. Could it be true? 

Uncle Winthrop put on his surtout with the great fur 
collar. Then he looked at Doris. 

" Wrap yourself up and come along," he said huskily. 

Already people were hanging flags out of the windows 
and stringing them across the streets. Every sled and 
sleigh had some sort of banner, if nothing more than 
white or brown paper with the five welcome letters, and 
everybody was shouting. Some men were carrying high 
banners with the words in blue or red on a white ground. 
When they came to State Street it was impassable. 
Cornhill was jammed. The Evening Gazette office had 
the announcement, thirty-two hours from New York 
(there was no telegraph or railroad train then) : 

" Sir : I hasten to acquaint you for the information of 

the public of the arrival here this afternoon of H. Br. M. 

sloop of war Favorite, in which has come passenger Mr. 

Carroll, American Messenger, having in his possession 

A Treaty of Peace." 

They passed that word from the nearest, standing by 
the bulletin, to the farther circles, and in five minutes the 
crowd knew it by heart. On the Commons the drums 
were beating, the cannons firing, and people shouting 
themselves hoarse. 

Mr. Adams went around to the Royall house, and that 
looked like a hotel on a gala day, and was nearly as full 
of people. The treaty had been signed on Christmas 
Eve. The President had now to issue a decree suspend 
ing hostilities. But one of the most brilliant battles had 
been fought on the 8th of January at New Orleans, 
under General Jackson a farewell shot. 

For a week no one could think or talk of anything 



ELIZABETH AND PEACE. 337 

else. Then the official acounts having been received 
from Washington, there were plans for a grand proces 
sion. An oratorio was given at the Stone Chapel in the 
morning. Madam Royall had managed to obtain seats 
for Mr. Winthrop and Doris with her party. The 
church was crowded. American and British officers in 
full uniform were side by side, as happy to be at peace 
as the rulers themselves, chatting cordially with each 
other. 

The State House was decorated with transparencies, 
and there were to be fireworks in the evening. The 
procession marched around the Common, with the dif 
ferent trades drawn on sleds. Printers struck off hand 
bills with the word " Peace! " printed on them and dis 
tributed them among the crowd. The carpenters were 
erecting a Temple of Peace. The papermakers had long 
strips of red, white, and blue: every trade had hit upon 
some signification of the general joy. 

Uncle Win sent Cato round for Mercy and Warren 
Leverett to come to tea, and then they went out to see 
the illumination and the fireworks. Old Boston had 
suffered a great deal from the war, and her rejoicing was 
as broad as her sorrow had been deep. 

As if that was not enough, there was to be a grand 
Peace Ball. The gentry did not so often patronize public 
balls, but this was an exception. Uncle Winthrop pro 
cured a ticket for W r arren and his wife. Mrs. Gilman 
was shocked, and Mercy like a modern woman declared 
she had nothing to wear. But Aunt Priscilla brought 
out her last remnant of gorgeousness, a gray satin that 
looked very, youthful draped with sheer white. 

" I feel just as if I was going to be married over again," 
Mercy declared laughingly; and Warren said she had 
never looked so beautiful. 

Uncle Winthrop left Doris' adornments to Madam 



338 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

Royall and Mrs. Chapman. She and Eudora had the 
same kind of gowns sheer, dotted muslin trimmed with 
rows of white satin ribbon, and the bodice with frills of 
lace and bows of ribbon. 

The hairdresser did her hair in a multitude of puffs 
and curls that made her look quite like a young lady. 
She was still very slim, but growing tall rapidly. In fact, 
as Uncle Winthrop looked at her he realized that she 
could not always remain a little girl. 

Concert Hall was brilliantly illuminated and decorated 
with flags and flowers. A platform surrounded the floor, 
and many people preferred to be spectators or just join 
in the march. There were some naval as well as military 
officers, and Doris kept a sharp watch, for it almost 
seemed as if she might come upon Cary. Oh, where 
would he hear the declaration of peace ! 

The dancing was quite delightful to most of the young 
people. Even those who just walked about, looked 
happy, and little knots chatted and smiled, adding a cer 
tain interest to the scene. The supper was very fine, and 
after that many of the quality retired, leaving the floor 
to those who had come to dance. 

Doris looked bright the next morning as she came to 
breakfast in her blue flannel frock and lace tucker, and 
her hair tied up high with a red ribbon, which with her 
white skin " made the American colors," Helen Chap 
man said. 

" I am glad to get back my little girl," Uncle Winthrop 
exclaimed, as he placed his hands lightly on her shoul 
ders. " You looked strange to me last night. Doris, 
how tall you are growing ! " in half-surprise. 

"That is an Adams trait, Aunt Priscilla would say. 
And do you remember that I am fifteen? " 

" Isn't there some way that girls can be set back? " he 
asked with feigned anxiety. 



ELIZABETH AND PEACE. 339 

" I've heard of their being set back after they reached 
thirty or forty," said Miss Recompense. 

" I don't want to wait so long," returned Uncle Win- 
throp with a smile. 

" There were some beautiful old ladies there last 
night," said Doris. " The one with black velvet and 
diamonds Madam Bowdoin. Is that Aunt Priscilla's 
friend?" 

" I suppose so. Mr. Perkins was held in high esteem, 
and Aunt Priscilla used to go about in her carriage then." 

"And Madam Scott! Uncle Win, to think she was 
John Hancock's wife, and he signed the Declaration of 
Independence! " 

"And after that I wouldn't have married anybody," de 
clared Miss Recompense with haughty stiffness. 

The enthusiasm did not die out at once. When men 
or women met they had to talk over the good news. 
Warren Leverett declared that business was reviving. 
Mercy told Uncle Winthrop that she had never expected 
to see so many famous people under such grand con 
ditions as a Peace Ball, and that it would be some 
thing to talk about when she was an old lady. Aunt 
Priscilla listened to the accounts with deep interest. 

And I looked like a real young lady," said Doris. 
" I was frightened when I came to think about it. I 
woufd like to stay a little girl for years and years. But 
I would not have missed the ball for anything. I do 
not believe there will ever be such a grand occasion 
again." 



340 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 
CHAPTER XXII. 

GARY ADAMS. 

I T took a good while in those days for the news of peace 

to go around the world. But there was a general 
reign of peace. The European countries had mostly 
settled their difficulties; there was royalty proper again 
on the throne of France. Napoleon swept through his 
hundred brilliant days, and was banished for life to the 
rocky isle of St. Helena; the young King of Rome was 
a virtual prisoner to Austria, and Russia and Prussia be 
gan to breathe freely once more. 

The United States had won a standing among the 
nations. Her indomitable courage, her successes against 
tremendous odds, had impressed Europe with her vitality 
and determination. 

One by one the ships came back to home ports. Mr. 
Adams and Doris watched and listened to every bit of 
news eagerly. 

The old apothecary's shop on Washington Street, to 
begin a famous history a decade later as " The Old Cor 
ner Bookstore," was even then a rendezvous for the news 
of the day. People paused going up and down, and each 
one added his bit to the general fund, or took with him 
the knowledge he was eagerly seeking. 

And when someone said, " Heard from your son yet, 
Mr. Adams? " he could only make a negative gesture. 

" If there isn't some word of Cary Adams soon, his 
father will never live to welcome him home," said Madam 
Royall to her daughter. " He grows thinner every day. 
What a perfect Godsend Doris has been! " 

Madam Royall was hale and hearty though she had 
lived through many sorrows. 



GARY ADAMS. 341 

The coveted news came first from Betty. She had 
written a letter to send by a private messenger, and 
opened it to add this postscript: 

" Mr. Bowen is waiting for this letter. Mr. King has 
just come in with the news that two ships have arrived at 
Portsmouth. Among the officers is ' Lieutenant Gary 
Adams.' That is all we know." 

" Oh, Uncle Win! " Doris' eyes swam in tears of joy. 
" Read Betty's postscript." Then she ran out of the 
room and had a good cry by herself, though why any 
one should want to cry over such joyful news she could 
not quite understand. 

Afterward she tied on her hat and ran over to Madam 
Royall's and then up to Sudbury Street. For in those 
days people were wont to say to their neighbors, " Come, 
rejoice with me! " 

When she returned home the house was very quiet. 
Solomon came and rubbed against her in mute inquiry. 
No one was in the study. She went out to the kitchen. 

" Don't disturb your uncle, Doris," said Miss Recom 
pense. " The news quite overcame him. He has gone 
to lie down." 

After dinner she went out again for some lessons. Oh, 
how bright the world looked, though it was a day in later 
March, but the wind had a Southern softness. Soon the 
wild flowers would be out. There was a very interesting 
new study, botany, that the previous autumn had taken 
groups of girls out in the lanes and fields, and some had 
ventured to visit the Botanic Gardens at Harvard Uni 
versity. Doris was much interested in it. 

Uncle Winthrop came to supper, and Doris played and 
sang for him during the evening. For though Gary was 
the uppermost thought in both hearts, they could not 
talk about him. 

It was a tedious post journey from Washington to 



342 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

Boston. One had to possess one's soul in patience. But 
the letter came at length. 

Gary had to go to Washington, as there was some prize 
money and claims to be inquired into. He had handed 
in his resignation, and should hereafter be a private citi 
zen of dear old Boston. There was much more that 
gladdened his father's heart and betrayed a manly 
spirit. 

Betty returned home, though Mrs. King declared she 
only lent her for a visit. She was very stylish now, and 
was studying French, for it might be possible that Mr. 
King would go abroad and take his wife and Betty. 

" I do wonder if you will ever settle down? " exclaimed 
Mrs. Leverett anxiously. That meant marriage and 
housekeeping. 

Betty laughed. " You know I have settled to be the 
old maid aunt," she returned. " But I am going to have 
a good young time first. And, mother, you can hardly 
realize what a fine, generous, broad-minded man Mat 
King has made." 

There were lovely odds and ends of attire, dainty slip 
pers, long gloves that came to your very shoulders, van- 
dyke capes of beautiful lace, buckles that looked like 
diamonds, ribbons and belts and sashes. Mercy said 
Betty could go down to Washington Street and open a 
fancy-goods store. And, oh, the delightful things she 
had seen and done, the skating parties in the winter, the 
sleigh rides when one stopped at a cozy, well-kept 
tavern and had a dainty supper and a dance. The drives 
down around the Battery and Bowling Green, and the 
promenades. There were still a good many military men 
in New York, but it had not suffered as much from the 
war as Boston. 

But Boston was growing beautiful by the hour, with 
her pretty private gardens and hundreds of fruit trees 



GARY ADAMS. 343 

blooming everywhere, and the great Common where 
people went for walks on sunny afternoons. 

Miss Recompense had a gorgeous tulip bed and some 
lilies of the valley, which were quite a new thing. Cato 
trimmed and trained the roses and vines, and the old 
Adams house was quite a bower of beauty. 

One April afternoon Doris sat by the study window 
doing some lace work, while Solomon lay curled up on 
the sill. She kept glancing out. People were quite 
given to going around this corner to get into Common 
Street. She liked to see them. Now and then a friend 
nodded. Uncle Win had been reading aloud from 
" Jerusalem Delivered," but Doris thought it rather 
prosy, and strayed off into her own thoughts. 

A tall, soldierly fellow came up the street, looked, hesi 
tated, opened the gate softly, and glanced down at the 
tulips. He was quite imposing as to figure, and his 
complexion was bronzed, the ends of his brown hair 
rather long and curling. He was in citizen clothes, and 
Doris wondered why she should think of Lieutenant 
Hawthorne. She had expected Cary in all the glory of 
a naval uniform a slim, fair, boyish person with a light 
springy walk. It never could be Cary ! 

" Oh, Uncle Win, quick ! " as the step sounded on the 

porch. " It is someone " She was so little certain 

sfie could not utter a name. 

Uncle Winthrop went out, opened the door, and his 
son put his arms about the father's neck. If there had 
been need of words neither could have uttered them for 
many minutes. 

When Miss Recompense cleaned house a week or two 
before the piano had been moved into the parlor. The 
door stood open so that it could have the warmth of the 
hall fire. The two entered it when they had found their 
voices. 



344 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

" It is Gary," thought Doris with a sense of disap 
pointment, though why she could not have told. 

Half an hour afterward they came out to the study. 

"Oh, Doris!" Gary cried, "how you have changed 
and grown. I shouldn't have known you! I've been 
carrying about with me the remembrance of a little girl. 
In my mind you have been no taller, no older, and yet 
I might have known why, we shall have to get ac 
quainted all over again." 

Doris blushed. " I am sure I have not changed as 
much as you. I did not think it could be you." 

" Someone at Annapolis before we went out designated 
me as ' That consumptive-looking young fellow.' But I 
have grown strong and hearty, and no doubt I shall come 
to fourscore. I do not mean that it shall be all labor and 
sorrow, either." 

Then Gary made the rounds of the house. Miss 
Recompense was as much amazed as Doris had been. 
Cato and Dinah were overjoyed. He had hardly dared 
dream that nothing would be changed, that more than 
the old love would be given back. He had gone away 
a boy, nurtured in the restraints of wise Puritanism that 
made a lasting mark on New England character; he had 
come home a man of experience, of deeper thought, of 
higher understanding and stronger affection. He was 
proud that he had done his duty as a citizen of the repub 
lic, but he knew now that neither naval or military life 
was to his taste. Henceforth he was to be a son in the 
old home. 

Doris left them talking when she went to bed, a little 
hurt and jealous that she was no longer first, that she 
could not be all to Uncle Win. It gave her a kind of 
solitary feeling. 

The old house took on an aspect of intense interest. 
There was a continual going and coming and enough 



GARY ADAMS. 345 

congratulations for a wedding feast. All Gary's friends 
vied with each other in warm welcomes, and Madam 
Royall claimed him with the old time cordiality. 

Was there any disappointment about Alice? 

He had a boy's thought the first few months about 
winning glory for her, of coming back to her, and per 
haps laying his triumphs at her feet. But the real work, 
the anxieties, the solemn fact of taking one's life in one's 
hands and realizing how near death might be, had 
changed him month by month, until he had only one 
prayer left that he might see his father again. If she 
was happy she surely had her heart's choice he was 
satisfied. They had never really been lovers. 

When the first excitement of welcome was over there 
were many things to think about. His interrupted career 
was one. Governor Gore had been chosen United States 
Senator the year before, but he still kept his office, and 
very kindly greeted the return of his student, offering 
him still greater advantages. Here the young Daniel 
Webster, a lad fresh from the country, had won the 
friendship of his master, and after a brief trial in New 
Hampshire had returned to Boston. 

Boston town began to experience the beneficent power 
of peace. Languishing industries revived. Commerce 
had been crippled by the war, but the inhabitants of New 
England had learned the value of their own ingenuity and 
industry to supply needs, and now they were roused to 
the fact there was an outside world to supply as well. 

Improvements started up on every side. There was 
even talk of transforming the town into a city. In 
deed, it had never been a formally incorporated town. 
The Court of Assistants one hundred and seventy years 
Sefore had changed the name from Tri-Mountain to Bos 
ton, and it had taken the privileges of a town. But there 
were many grave questions coming to the front, 



346 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

The family party at the Adams house this year seemed 
to include half of Boston. One by one the old relatives 
had dropped out. Some of the younger ones had gone 
to other cities. 

Madam Royall came over to be mistress of ceremonies. 
For besides the ovation to the returned lieutenant, Miss 
Doris Adams was to be presented as a full-fledged young 
lady, and she wore her pretty gown made for the Peace 
Ball, and pink roses. Miss Betty Leverett was quite a 
star as well. Miss Helen Chapman was engaged, and 
Eudora was a favorite with the young gentlemen. 

" I shall be so sorry when they are all gone," declared 
Madam Royall. " I do love young people, but I am 
afraid my fourth generation will not grow up in time for 
me to enjoy them. You must keep good watch over 
Doris lest some wolf enters the fold and carries off the 
sweet child." 

Uncle Win smiled and then looked grave. Doris 
carried off oh, no, he could never spare her! 

Gary Adams had not forgotten how to dance, and every 
girl he asked was delighted with the opportunity. It 
seemed rather queer to Doris to accept or decline on her 
own responsibility. 

A week or two later, when they had settled to quite 
regular living, Gary came out and sat on the step one 
evening. 

" Doris," he began, " do you remember the letter I 
sent you by a Lieutenant Hawthorne that first let 
ter " What a flood of remembrances it brought! 

" Oh, yes." She had begun to feel very much at 
home with Gary his little sister, as he called her. "And 
I must tell you a queer thing the day you came home 
when I looked down the path I thought of him. You 
had changed so. I don't know what sent him to my 
mind." 



GARY ADAMS. 347 

" That was odd. He is in town. He called on me 
to-day. For the last year he has been Captain Haw 
thorne, and he is a splendid fellow. He has been sent to 
the Charlestown Navy Yard, and may be here the next 
three months, for now the Government is considering a 
navy. Well we did some splendid fighting with the 
old ships. But oh, Doris, you can't imagine how home 
sick I was. I had half a mind to show the white feather 
and come home." 

" Oh, you couldn't have done it, Gary! " 

" No, I couldn't when it came to the pinch. But if I 
had gone with father's consent! I understood then what 
it would be never to see him again. I think I shall be a 
better son all my life for the lesson." 

" Yes," in her gentle approving fashion. 

" Hawthorne wants to come over here," Gary said 
presently. " I think my father would like him, though 
I notice he has an aversion to military or naval men. 
But I shall never go away again unless the country is in 
great danger." 

" I should like to see him. I wonder if he has changed 
as much as you? " 

" I think not," and Gary laughed. " He was twenty- 
four then, and sort of settled into manhood, while I was 
a rather green stripling." 

" You are losing some of the ' sea tan,' as Madam 
Royall calls it. I am glad of it. I like you best fair." 

" Captain Hawthorne is a very handsome man. I 
ought to feel flattered to be mistaken for him." 

" Is he? " returned Doris simply. 

" Don't you remember him? " 

" I remember that he asked me for a rose and I gave it 
to him. It was the last one on the bush. I was so glad 
to get the letter I couldn't think of anything else." 

So Gary brought him over to tea one afternoon. 



348 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

Doris noted then that he was extremely good-looking 
and very entertaining. Besides, he had a fine tenor voice 
and they sang songs together. 

Uncle Winthrop was troubled at first. Captain Haw 
thorne's enthusiasm for his profession was so ardent 
that Mr. Adams was alarmed lest it might turn Gary's 
thoughts seaward again. But he found presently that 
Gary's enlisting had been that of a patriotic, high-spirited 
boy, and that he had no real desire for the life. 

What a summer it was! Betty was over often, Eudora 
was enchanted with the Adams house, and there was a 
bevy of girls who brought their sewing and spent the 
afternoon on the stoop. Sometimes Uncle Win came 
out and read to them. There were several new English 
poets. A Lord Byron was writing the cantos of a beau 
tiful and stirring poem entitled " Childe Harold " that 
abounded in fine descriptions. There were " The Lady 
of the Lake " and " Marmion," and there was a queer 
Scotchy poet by the name of Burns, who had a dry wit 
and few could master the tongue. A whole harvest of 
delight was coming over from England. 

There were so many curious and lovely places within 
a few hours sail or drive. Captain Hawthorne had spent 
most of his life in Maryland, and this scenery was new. 
They made up parties for the day, or Betty, Doris, and 
Uncle Winthrop and the captain went in a quartette. 

" I don't know," Uncle Win said one day with a grave 
shake of the head. " Do you not think I am rather an 
old fellow to go careering round with you young 
people? " 

" But, you see, someone would have to go," explained 
Doris. " Young ladies can't go out with a young man 
alone. It would have to be Aunt Elizabeth, or Mrs. 
Chapman, and I would so much rather have you. It's 
nice to be just by ourselves." 



GARY ADAMS. 349 

" The captain seems to like Betty very much." 

" Indeed he does," answered Doris warmly. 

Occasionally Gary would get off and join them. But 
he was trying hard to catch up. He had gotten out of 
study habits, and some days he found it quite irksome, 
for he was fond of pleasure, and it seemed to him that 
Betty was extremely charming, and Doris quaint, and 
Eudora vivacious to the point of wit. 

One warm August afternoon he sat alone, having re 
solved to master a knotty point. What were the others 
doing? he wondered. 

There was a step, and he glanced up. 

" Oh," nodding to Captain Hawthorne, " I was just 
envying you and all the others, and wondering where 
you were on pleasure bound." 

" It was not pleasure, but hard work over at the yard 
to-day. However, I have the evening, and feel like in 
viting myself to partake of a cup of the comforting tea 
Miss Recompense brews." 

" Come along then. I have put in a good day and am 
conscience-clear." 

Gary began to pile up his books. 

" I have only about a fortnight more," Captain Haw 
thorne said slowly. 

Gary changed his coat and locked his desk. " Well? " 
as the caller was watching him earnestly. 

" Adams, do you mean do you expect to marry your 
cousin?" Hawthorne asked abruptly. 

" My cousin? Betty or Doris? " 

" Doris." 

" Why no, I never thought of it. And I have a sight 
of work to do before I marry." 

" Then I suppose you never suspected such a thing 
but I am in love with her." 

" In love with Doris ! Why, she's just a child." 



350 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

" I dare say I shall have to serve seven years before I 
can get your father's consent. She will be older then. 
I was listening to a romantic story about an old house 
where a handsome girl leaned out of a window and her 
beauty attracted an English officer passing by, who said 
to himself that was the one woman for him, and 
long afterward he went back, found her, and married 
her." 

" A handsome Miss Sheafe. Yes." Gary smiled. 

" See here, Gary Adams." 'Hawthorne took a small 
leather case out of his pocket. Between two cards was a 
pressed rose. " When I took your packet to Miss Doris 
Adams almost four years ago, I gave it into the hands of 
the sweetest little girl I ever saw. If I had been less of 
a gentleman I must have kissed her. I espied one rose 
in the garden and asked her for it. This is the rose she 
gave me. I meant to come North and find her, and 
when I asked for leave of absence to visit Boston this 
business was put in my charge. Then I said, ' I will look 
up the little girl, who must be a large girl now, and woo 
her with the sincerest regard.' It shall go hard indeed 
with me if I cannot win her. But I have fancied of late 
that you " 

" She is very dear to me and to my father. But I had 
not thought " 

" Then I take my chances. As I said, I will wait for 
her. She is still very young, and I should feel con 
science-smitten to rob your father. Sometime you may 
want to bring the woman you love to the old home, and 
then it will not be so hard. I could keep true to her the 
whole world over; and if she promises, she will keep true 
to me." 

Gary Adams was deeply moved. Such devotion ought 
to win a reward. How blind he and his father had been, 
thinking of Betty Leverett. 



THE COST OF WOMANHOOD. 351 

Oh, how could they let Doris go! Yet a lover like 
t'fiis was not to be curtly refused. 

" I shall not stand in your way," quietly. 

"Thank you a thousand times. But if she had been 
for you, as I feared, I should have proved man enough 
to keep silent and go my way. It has been a happy sum 
mer, and in two weeks more it will end. Still, I may be 
able to get an appointment here. I shall try for it and 
return." 

" Come," said Cary Adams, and he went out feeling 
there had been a great change in the world, and he was 
wrapped about with some mysterious influence. 

Doris had thought of Captain Hawthorne on the day 
of his, Gary's, return. How many times besides had she 
thought of him? And she had recalled giving him the 
rose. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

THE COST OF WOMANHOOD. 

A HAPPY fortnight. It was worth all the after-pain 
** to have it to remember. When Boston was a great 
city half a century later, and there had been another war, 
and Captain Hawthorne had risen in the ranks and been 
put on the retired list, he came a grizzled old man to find 
the place that had always lived in his remembrance. 
But the old house had been swept away by the march of 
improvement, the rounding corner straightened and 
given over to business, and the Common was magnificent 
in beauty. The tall, thin, scholarly man had gone to the 
wife of his youth. Doris, little Doris, was very happy. 
So what did it matter? 

There was a succession of lovely days. One morning, 
early, Captain Hawthorne joined Doris and her uncle in 
a long ride over on Boston Neck. They found an odd 



352 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

o!3 tavern kept by a sailor who had been round the 
world and taken a hand in the " scrimmage," as he called 
it, and with his small prize money bought out the place. 
There was some delightful bread and cold chicken, wine 
and bottled cider equal to champagne. There was an 
other long lovely day when with Betty they went up to 
Salem and drove around the quaint streets and watched 
the signs of awakening business. There was Fort Pick 
ering, the lighthouse out on the island, the pretty Com 
mon, the East India Marine Society's hall with its curi 
osities (quite wonderful even then), and the clean streets 
with their tidy shops, the children coming from school, 
the housewives going about on errands. Foster Man 
ning drove his grandmother down to join them; and he 
was almost a young man now. He told Doris they all 
missed Elizabeth so much, but he was glad she had had 
that nice visit to Boston. 

So the days drifted on; Doris unconsciously sweet in 
her simplicity, yet so innocent that the lover began to 
fear while he hoped. 

Uncle Winthrop had gone to a meeting of the Histori 
cal Society. Miss Recompense had a neighbor in great 
trouble that she was trying to console out in the supper 
room, where they could talk unreservedly. Gary was in 
the study, and the two were sauntering around the fra 
grant walks where the grassy beds had recently been cut. 
There was no moon, and the whole world seemed soft and 
still, as if it was listening to the story Captain Hawthorne 
had to tell, as if it was in love with itself. 

" Oh," interrupted Doris with a sharp, pained cry, " do 
not, please do not ! I never dreamed I shall never go 
away from Uncle Winthrop. I do not want any other 
love. I thought it was Betty. Oh, forgive me for the 
pain and disappointment. I seem even to myself such a 
little girl " 



THE COST OF WOMANHOOD. 353 

" But I can wait years. I wanted you to know. Oh, 
Doris, as the years go on can you not learn to love me? 
I will be patient and live in the sweet, grand hope that 
some day " 

" No, no; do not hope. I cannot promise. Oh, you 
are so noble and upright, can you not accept this truth 
from me? For it would only be pain and disappoint 
ment in the end." 

No, she did not love him. Her sweet soul was still 
asleep within her fair body. He was too really honor 
able to persist. 

" Doris," he said, what a sweet girl's name it was! 
" five years from this time I shall come back. You will 
be a woman then, you are still a child. And if no other 
lover has won you, I shall ask again." 

He pressed her hand to his lips. Then he led her 
around to the porch, and bade her a tender good-night. 
He would not embarrass her by any longer stay. 

She ran up the steps. Gary intercepted her in the 
hall. 

" Has he gone? Doris " 

" Oh, did you know? How could you let him! " she 
cried in anguish. " How could you ! " 

" Doris my dear little sister, he loved you so. But 
I wish it had been Betty. Oh, don't cry. You have 
done nothing. I am sorry, but he would not have been 
satisfied if he had not spoken. <He wanted to ask father 
first, but I hated to have him pained if it was not neces 
sary " 

" Thank you for that, Gary. Do not tell him. You 
will not? " she pleaded, thinking of the other first. 

" No, dear. We must shield him all we can." 

Yes, they would try always. There was a little rift in 
the cloud of pain. 

The next evening Captain Hawthorne came over to 



354 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

bid them a formal good-by. Helen Chapman and her 
lover and Eudora were there, so it was an unembarrass- 
ing affair with many good wishes on both sides. 

Doris thought she would like to run away and hide. 
It seemed as if the whole story was written in her face. 
Betty suspected, but she loved her too well to tease. And 
almost immediately Helen announced her arrangements. 
She was to be married in October. Doris and Gary 
must stand with her, and one of the Chapman cousins 
with Eudora. Another warm girl friend and her lover 
would complete the party. Grandmamma had stipulated 
that Mr. Harrison Gray should cast in his lot with them 
for a year. Mr. Sargent had been attached to the em 
bassy at London and they would remain two years longer 
at least. Madam Royall could not bear to have the 
family shrink so rapidly. 

Betty was to go away again. Mr. and Mrs. Matthias 
King came together this time to see old friends and Bos 
ton, that Mr. King found wonderfully changed. He was 
to go to France on business for the firm of which he was 
a member, and be absent a year at least. It would be 
such a splendid chance for Betty. They were to take 
their own little Bessy and leave the three younger chil 
dren with a friend who had a school for small people 
and who would give them a mother's care. 

There was a little grandson in Sudbury Street, and 
Mercy had proved a very agreeable daughter-in-law. 
Warren had begun to prosper again, and was full of hope. 
The children at Hollis Leverett's were growing rapidly. 
They no longer said " little Sam." He was almost a 
young man. He had taken the Franklin prize at the 
Latin School and was now apprenticed to an architect 
and builder, and would set up for himself when he came 
of age, as Boston had begun to build up rapidly. But 



THE COST OF WOMANHOOD. 355 

he couldn't help envying Cousin Cary Adams his prize 
money and wondering what he meant to do with it. 

An invitation to go to Paris was not to be lightly de 
clined then, any more than it would be now. Mrs. Man 
ning did not see " how Betty could leave mother for so 
long," but Mrs. Leverett was in good health, and though 
she hated to have her go so far away, there really could 
be no objection, when Matthias King was so generous. 

" I am going to have some of my good times while we 
are together and able to enjoy them," he said to Mrs. 
Leverett. " I shall have to leave Electa alone every now 
and then while I am about business, and it will be such a 
comfort to her to have Betty. No doubt, we shall marry 
her to a French count." 

" Oh, no, bring her back to me," said Betty's mother. 

There was quite a stir among Betty's compeers. She 
was congratulated and envied, and they begged her to 
write everything she could about French fashions. How 
lucky that she had been studying French! 

Aunt Priscilla had a hard struggle with conscience 
about a matter that she felt to be quite a duty. Giving 
away finery that you would never wear was one thing, 
but your money was quite another. 

" Betty," she said, I'm going to make you a little gift. 
If you shouldn't want to use it maybe Mat will see some 
way to invest it for you. When the trouble came to 
Warren, I said he might as well have his part as to wait 
until I was dead and gone. I have been paid over and 
over again in comfort. He grows so much like your 
father, Betty. And he's weathered through the storm 
and stress. So I'll do the same by you, and if you never 
get any more you must be content." 

It was an order for five hundred dollars. Winthrop 
Adams would see it paid. 



356 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

Betty was quite overwhelmed. " I ought to give half 
of it to mother! " she cried. 

" No, no. Your mother will have all she needs. The 
Mannings would borrow it of her to buy more ground 
with. I've no patience with all their scrimping, and 
sometimes I give thanks that poor Elizabeth is out of it 
all. Don't have an anxious thought about money where 
you mother is concerned." 

" What a comfort you are, Aunt Priscilla." 

" Well, it took years enough to teach me that anybody 
needed comforting." 

As for Doris, she was so busy that she could hardly 
think about herself or Captain Hawthorne. She did 
wish he had not loved her. If she had known about the 
rose her heart would have been still more sore and 
pitiful. 

Betty went before the wedding. They took a sloop to 
New York and were to leave there for Havre. 

Madam Royall had this wedding just to her fancy, and 
it was quite a fine affair. Gary looked very nice, Doris 
thought, for the sea tan had nearly all bleached out. His 
figure was compact, and he had a rather soldierly bear 
ing. He was quite a hero, too, to his old college mates, 
some of whom had not considered him possessed of really 
strong characteristics. 

But the young ladies were proud of his notice and 
attention, and there was no end of invitations from their 
mothers when they were going to have evening com 
panies. 

The cold weather came on apace. Mr. Adams seemed 
to feel it more and gave up his horseback rides. He 
interested himself very much in the library plans, but he 
grew fonder of staying at home, and Doris was such a 
pleasant companion. Gary had never been fond of 
poetry, and now he threw himself into his profession with 



THE COST OF WOMANHOOD. 357 

a resolve to stand high. Manhood's ambition was so 
different from the lukewarm endeavors of the boy. 

His father did enjoy his earnestness very much. 
Sometimes he roused himself to argue a point when two 
or three young men dropped in, and the old fire flashed 
up, though he liked best his ease and his poets, or Doris 
reading or singing some old song. But he did not lose 
his interest in the world's progress or that of his be 
loved city. 

Doris was very happy in a young girl's way. One 
did not expect to fill every moment with pleasure, or go 
to parties or the theater every evening. There were 
other duties and purposes to life. As Aunt Priscilla did 
not go out after the cold weather set in, she ran up there 
nearly every day with some cheerful bit of gossip. 
Madam Royall had grown very fond of her as well. 
There was the dancing class; and the sewing class, when 
they made garments for poor people ; and shopping even 
if one did not buy much, for now such pretty French and 
English goods were shown again. Then one stopped in 
the confectioner's on Newberry Street and had a cup of 
hot coffee or tea if it was a cold day; or strolled down 
Cornhill to see what new books had come over from 
London, for the Waverley novels had just begun, and 
everybody was wondering about the author. Or you 
went to Faneuil Hall to see Trumbull's Declaration of 
Independence, which was considered a very remarkable 
work. There were the sleigh-rides, when you went out 
in style and had a supper and a dance; and the sledding 
parties, that were really the most fun of all, when you 
almost forgot you were grown-up. 

Gary was always ready to attend his cousin, though 
she quite as often went out with Mr. and Mrs. Gray and 
Eudora. When he thought of it, it did seem a little 
curious that Doris had no special company. 



353 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

But a girl was not allowed to keep special company 
until the family had consented and she was regularly 
engaged. Young men and girls came to sing, for a 
piano was a rarity; there were parties going here and 
there, but Doris never evinced any particular preference. 

So spring came again and gardening engrossed Doris. 
She had been learning housekeeping in all its branches 
under the experienced tuition of Miss Recompense and 
Dinah. A girl who did not know everything from the 
roasting of a turkey to the making of sack-posset, and 
through all the gradations of pickling and preserving, 
was not considered " finished." 

Doris was very fond of the wide out-of-doors. She 
often took her work, and Uncle Winthrop his book, and 
sat out on a rustic seat at the edge of the Common, which 
was beginning to be beautiful, though it was twenty years 
later that the Botanic Garden was started. But now that 
our ships were going everywhere, curious bulbs and 
plants were brought from Holland and from the East 
Indies by sea captains. And they found wonderful wild 
flowers that developed under cultivation. Brookline was 
a great resort on pleasant days, with its meadows and 
wooded hillsides and beautiful gardens. Colonel Per 
kins had all manner of foreign fruits and flowers that he 
had brought home from abroad, and had a greenhouse 
where you could often find the grandmother of the family, 
who was most generous in her gifts. There were people 
who thought you " flew in the face of Providence " when 
you made flowers bloom in winter, but Providence 
seemed to smile on them. 

Over on the Foster estate at Cambridge there was a 
genuine hawthorn. People made pilgrimages to see it 
when it was white with bloom and diffusing its peculiar 
odor all about. There were the sweet blossoms of the 
mulberry and the honey locust, and the air everywhere 



THE COST OF WOMANHOOD. 359 

was fragrant, for there were so few factories, and people 
had not learned to turn waste materials into every sort 
of product and make vile smells. 

Gary sometimes left his books early in the afternoon 
and went driving with them. If he did not appreciate 
poetry so much, he was on the lookout for every fine tree 
and curious flower, and twenty years later he was deep 
in the Horticultural Society. 

Uncle Winthrop bought a new low carriage this sum 
mer. For anyone else but a grave gentleman it would 
have looked rather pronounced, but it was so much easier 
to get in and out. And Doris in her sweet unconscious 
ness never made any bid for attention, but people would 
turn and look at them as one looks at a picture. 

Thirty years or so afterward old ladies would some 
times say to the daughters of Doris : 

" My dear, I knew your mother when she was a sweet, 
fresh young girl and used to go out driving with her 
uncle. Mr. Winthrop Adams was one of the high-bred, 
delicate-looking men that would have graced a court. 
There wasn't a prettier sight in Boston and, dear me! 
that was way back in '16 or '17. How time flies! " 

They heard from Betty occasionally. The letters were 
long and " writ fine," though happily not crossed. They 
should have been saved for a book, they were so chatty. 
In August one came to Doris that stirred up a mighty 
excitement. Betty had a way of being quite dramatic 
and leading up to a climax. 

A month before they had met a delightful Frenchman, 
a M. Henri de la Maur, twenty-five or thereabouts, and 
found him an excellent cicerone to some remarkable 
things they had not seen. He was much interested in 
America and its chief cities, especially Boston, when he 
found that was Betty's native town. 

And one day he told them of a search he had been 



360 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

making for a little girl. The De la Maurs had suffered 
considerably under the Napoleonic regime, and had now 
been restored to some of their rights. There was one 
estate that could not be settled until they found a missing 
member. They had traced the mother, who had died and 
left a husband and a little girl Jacqueline. " That is 
such a common name in France," explained Betty. She 
had been placed in a convent, and that was such a com 
mon occurrence, too. Then she had been taken to the 
North of England. He had gone to the old town, but the 
child's father had died and some elderly relatives had 
passed away, and the child herself had been sent to the 
United States. Everybody who had known her was 
dead or had forgotten. 

" And I never thought until one day he said Old Bos 
ton," confessed Betty, " when I remembered suddenly 
that your mother's name was Jacqueline Marie de la 
Maur in the old marriage certificate. We had been 
talking of it a week or more, but one hears so many 
family stories here in Paris, and lost and found inherit 
ances. But I almost screamed with surprise, and added 
tfie sequel; and he was just overjoyed, and brought the 
family papers. He and your mother are second- and 
third-cousins. It is queer you should have so many far- 
off relations, and so few near-by ones, and be mixed up 
in so many romances. 

" The fortune sounds quite grand in francs, but if we 
enumerated our money by quarters of dollars, we might 
all be rich. It is a snug little sum, however, and they are 
anxious to get it settled before the next turn in the 
dynasty, lest it might be confiscated again. So M. 
Henri is coming home with us, and we shall start the first 
day of September, as Mr. King has finished his business 
and Electa is wild to see her children. I think I shall 
give ' talks ' all winter and invite you over to Sudbury 



THE COST OF WOMANHOOD. 361 

Street, with your sewing, for I never shall be talked 
out." 

It was wonderful. Doris had to read the letter over 
and over. It had listeners at the Royall house who said 
it was a perfect romance, and at the Leveretts' they re 
joiced greatly. 

" I declare! " exclaimed Aunt Priscilla, " if you should 
live to be fifty or sixty, and everybody go on leaving you 
fortunes, you won't know what to do with your money. 
They're filling up the Mill Pond and the big ma'sh and 
going to lay out streets. I wouldn't have believed it! 
Foster Leverett held on to his legacy because he couldn't 
sell it, and now Warren has been offered a good sum. 
Mary Manning will pinch herself blue to think she sold 
out when she did. I'm just glad for Warren. And 
Gary '11 know so much law that he will look out for 
you." 

It was a beautiful autumn, for a wonder. Summer 
seemed loath to depart or allow the flame-colored finger 
of Fall to place her seal on the glowing foliage. But it 
was the last of October when Betty reached Boston, con 
voyed by a very old-time New England woman going on 
to Newburyport. 

" For you know," said Betty, " the French are very 
particular about a young woman traveling alone, but we 
did have a hunt to find someone coming to Boston. 
Otherwise M'sieur Henri you see how apt I am in 
French could not have accompanied me." 

M. de la Maur was a very nice-looking young man, 
not as tall as Gary, but with a graceful and manly figure, 
soft dark eyes, and hair that just missed being black, a 
clear complexion and fine color, and a small line of mus 
tache. As to manners he was really charming, and so 
well-read that Mr. Winthrop Adams took to him at once. 
He was conversant with Voltaire and Rousseau, the 



362 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

plays of Racine and Moliere, and the causes that had led 
to the French Revolution, and had been in Paris through 
the famous " Hundred Days." Of course he was bitter 
against Napoleon. 

The inheritance part was soon settled. Doris would 
have about three thousand dollars. But De la Maur 
took a great fancy to Boston, and the Royall family ap 
proved of him. Mr. and Mrs. Sargent had returned this 
fall and the old house was a center of attractive gayeties. 

" Do you know, I think Cousin Henri is in love with 
Betty," said Doris, with a feminine habit of guessing at 
love matters. " But she insists she will never live 
abroad, and Cousin Henri thinks Paris is the center of 
the world." 

" How will they manage? " 

Doris laughed. She did not just see herself. 

But Betty's romance came to light presently. It had 
begun during her winter in New York, but it had not run 
smoothly. Betty had a rather quick wit and was fond 
of teasing, and there had been " differences " not easily 
settled. Mr. Harman Gaynor had risen to the distinc 
tion of a partnership in the King firm, and on meeting 
Betty again, with the young Frenchman at her elbow, 
had presented his claim in such a way that Betty yielded. 
When Mr. Gaynor came to Boston to have a conference 
with Mrs. Leverett for fathers and mothers still had 
authority in such matters Betty's engagement was 
announced and the marriage set for spring. 

Somehow it was a delightful winter. But after a little 
one person began to feel strangely apprehensive, and this 
was Cary Adams. 

" I suppose Doris and her third- or fourth-cousin will 
make a match? " Madam Royall said one evening when 
tfiey had been playing morris and she had won the rub 
ber. " How can you let her go away? " 



THE COST OF WOMANHOOD. 363 

" She will never leave father," exclaimed Gary con 
fidently. 

There was a sudden stricture all over his body. It 
seemed as if some cold hand had clutched both heart and 
brain. 

He walked home in the bright, fresh air. It was barely 
ten. He passed De la Maur on the way and they greeted 
each other. The parlor windows were darkened, his 
father was alone in the study, and everyone else had gone 
to bed. 

" I wish you had been home," said his father glancing 
up. " De la Maur has been reciting Racine, and I have 
never heard anything finer! I wish he could read 
Shakspere. He certainly is a delightful person, so cul 
tured and appreciative. It makes me feel that we really 
are a new people." 

Could no one see the danger? How happened it his 
father was so blind? Did Doris really care? She had 
not loved Captain Hawthorne, a man worthy of any 
woman's love. Gary had a confident feeling that in five 
years they would see him again. But he would be too 
old for Doris thirteen years between them. Yet his 
father had been fifteen years older than his mother. 
Doris was so guileless, so simply honest, and if she loved 
how curiously she had kept from friendships or inti 
macies with young men! Eudora had a train of ad 
mirers. So had Helen and Alice in their day. 

When he had met Mrs. Sargent he knew it had only 
been a boyish fancy for Alice Royall, and it had merely 
shaped and strengthened the ardent desire of youth to 
go to his country's defense. He was a man now, and 
capable of loving with supreme tenderness and strength. 
Yet he had seen no woman to whom he cared to pour out 
the first sweet draught of a man's regard. 

But Doris must not go away, she could not. 



364 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

Morning, noon, and night he watched her. She pre 
pared his father's toast, she chatted with him and often 
coaxed him to taste this or that, for his appetite was slen 
der. On sunny mornings they went to drive, or if not 
she brought her sewing and sat in the study, listened and 
discussed the subjects he loved, and was enthusiastic 
about the Boston that was to be, that they both saw with 
the eye of faith. While he took his siesta she ran up to 
Sudbury Street, or did an errand. Later in the afternoon 
there would be calls. There was a sideboard at the end 
of the hall where a bottle or two of wine were kept, as 
was the custom then, and a plate of cake. 

Doris brought in a fashion of offering tea or sometimes 
mulled cider on a cold day. But Miss Recompense 
made delicious tea, and some of the gentlemen took it 
just to see Doris drop in the lump of sugar so daintily. 

If they were at home there was always company in the 
evening, unless the night was very stormy. De la Maur 
generally made one of the guests. If they were alone 
tfiey had a charming evening in the study. 

The young Frenchman was most punctilious. He 
might take a few cousinly freedoms, but he never offered 
any that were lover-like. So it was the more easy for 
Doris to persuade herself that it was merely relationship. 
Occasionally the eloquence of his eyes quite unnerved 
her. She cunningly sheltered herself beside Eudora 
when it was possible. 

But De la Maur's regard grew apace. It would not 
be honorable to come without declaring his intentions. 
And the American fashion of being engaged was ex 
tremely fascinating to him. He wanted the more than 
cousinly privileges. 

So it happened one night Betty and Warren came over 
with a piece of music Mrs. King had sent, a song by 
Moore, the Irish poet. Doris went to the parlor to try it. 



THE COST OF WOMANHOOD. 365 

That was De la Maur's golden opportunity, and he could 
not allow it to slip. In a most deferential manner he laid 
his case before her relative and guardian and begged per 
mission to address Miss Doris. 

Winthrop Adams was utterly amazed at the first mo 
ment. Then he recovered himself. Doris was a young 
lady. One friend and another was being given in mar 
riage, and Doris naturally would have lovers. There was 
one that he had hoped but he had never seen any real 
indication. 

" It is true that I like my own Paris best, but if Miss 
Doris longed to stay here a few years, I would make 
myself content. But you will understand I could not 
come any longer without explaining; and this time you 
allow young people betrothment looks so attractive. 
May I ask and learn her sentiments, since young ladies 
choose for themselves? " 

What could he do but consent? If Doris should not 
love him 

" Good-night Uncle Win," cried Betty from the hall. 
" Good-night, M. De la Maur." 

Doris was replacing some music in the portfolio. 
Cousin Henri crossed the room and she saw a mysterious 
sweetness in his face as he took her hand. 

" Ma chere amie Cousin Doris, I have just explained to 
your uncle my sentiments concerning you, and have his 
permission to ask for your regard. I love you very 
dearly. Will you be my wife? " 

Doris drew her hand away and was pale and red by 
turns, while her throat constricted and her breath came 
in great bounds. 

" I am so sorry. I tried not to be I did not want 
anything like this to happen but sometimes I felt 
afraid," she stammered in her embarrassment. " I like 
you very much. But I do not want to marry or to be 



366 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

engaged. I shall stay with my uncle. I shall never go 
away from the country of my adoption." 

" But if I were willing to remain a while so long as 
your uncle lived? I do not wonder you love him very 
much. He is a charming gentleman. I have no parents 
to bid me stay at home, I need consult only you and 
myself." 

" Oh, no, no! Do not compel me to pain you by con 
tinued refusals. I cannot consent. I will always be 
friend and cousin I do not love anyone " 

" Then if you do not love anyone this friendship might 
ripen into a sweet regard. Oh, Doris, I had hardly 
thought so deep a love possible." 

His imploring tone touched her. But she drew back 
farther and said in a more decisive tone: " Oh, no, no! 
I cannot promise." 

He was too gentlemanly to persist in his pleading. 
But he was confident he had Mr. Adams on his side. 
And at home the desires of parents and guardians 
counted for a great deal. 

" My dear cousin, will you talk this matter over with 
your uncle? You may look at it in a different light. 
And I shall remain your ardent admirer until I am con 
vinced. Since you have no lover " 

Doris Adams suddenly straightened her pliant young 
figure. Some dignity was born in her face and in the 
clear eyes she raised, too pure to doubt anything or to 
fear anything, sure for a moment that she possessed every 
pulse and thought and knowledge of her own soul, then 
beset by a strange shadowy misgiving that she had 
reached a curious crisis in her life that she did not know 
of an instant ago. 

But she said bravely, though there was a quiver in her 
breath that she tried to keep from her voice : 

" Let us remain cousins merely. My duty is here. 



THE BLOOM OF LIFE LOVE. 367 

My love is here also to the best of fathers, the tenderest 
of friends. I cannot share it with anyone." 

De la Maur bowed and went slowly out of the apart 
ment. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE BLOOM OF LIFE LOVE. 

p\ORIS flew to the study. Uncle Winthrop's eyes 
*-* were bent on his book and his face partly turned 
aside. He had been making a brave fight. A man of a 
less fine strain of honor would not have answered the 
brave young lover as he had done. He could not have 
answered him thus if he had not liked Henri de la Maur 
so well, and loved Doris with such singleness of heart. 

He heard her step and put out his hand without mov 
ing. His tone was very low. 

" Is it France? " 

"France! Oh, Uncle Win! When I belong to you 
and Boston? " 

Her arms were around his neck. His heart, his whole 
body, seemed to give one great throb of joy as he drew 
her down to his knee. There had been only one other 
experience in life as sweet. 

" And you would have sent me away ! " with a soft, 
broken upbraiding in which love was uppermost. 

" No, child, no. God forbid, Doris, now that you are 
not going, I will confess I think I should have died be 
fore the parting came. But, my little girl, I must say 
this in memory of two sweet years of wedded life there 
is no happiness comparable to it. And to accept your 
youth, your golden period that never dawns but once on 
any human being, to gladden my declining years would 
be a selfish sin. I once had a dream but it came to 
naught " he drew a long breath as if the remembrance 



368 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

pained him. " You must be quite free, dear, to love and 
to marry. All these years with you have been so 
precious, but sometime I shall go my way, and I could 
not bear the thought of your being left alone! " 

" I shall stay with you. I there can never be any 
home like this any love like yours " 

The hall door opened and shut slowly. That was 
Gary's step. She could not meet him here. She 
kissed Uncle Win vehemently and flashed past the 
young man standing there almost in the doorway with a 
white, strained face. The great armchair was in her way 
and she half stumbled over it. Then some other arms 
caught her and she had no strength to struggle. Did 
she want to? 

" Doris! Doris! Was it true what you said just now 
that no home could be like this, and your love for him, 
which has been that of a tender daughter his love for 
you is there room for another regard still? for, Doris, I 
love you! I want you. I have been wild and jealous 
since I have suspected, since I have really known or 
guessed your cousin's intentions. I did not suspect at 
first there were Betty and Eudora and an old regard 
waiting for you, but now I can think of only one thing, 
that has been in my mind day and night for the last fort 
night, that I love you as well as the others ; only it seems 
a small and ignoble matter to appeal to your affection 
for my father and the old home. But I want your love, 
your sweetness, your precious faith, the trust of your 
coming womanhood, your own sweet self. I'm not a 
handsome fellow like Captain Hawthorne, nor accom 
plished like De la Maur, but I shall love you to my life's 
end, Doris!" 

They sat down on the step of the old staircase and he 
could feel the tremble in every pulse of her slim young 
figure. Was it the strange mystery that had come to her 



THE BLOOM OF LIFE LOVE. 369 

half an hour ago in the parlor opposite, a something that 
was not knowledge, but a vague consciousness that there 
was a person in the world who could say the words that 
would thrill her with delight instead of bringing sorrow 
and regret! 

" All that is a very illogical and incoherent presenta 
tion. I must do better when I come to argue my first 
case," and he gave a joyous little laugh. For he knew if 
Doris meant to say him " Nay," she would not let her 
head droop on his shoulder, or yield to the clasp of his 
arm. And suddenly his soul was filled with infinite pity 
for Hawthorne, and yes he felt sorry for De la Maur. 

" Doris is it a little for my own sake?" 

A breath of happy content swept over her like a sum 
mer wind coming from some mysterious world. 

" You have been an angel of comfort to both of us. I 
don't know what I should have done in that unhappy 
time if it had not been for you. But Hawthorne's regard 
made it a point of honor with me. Could you have loved 
him, Doris? He is such a fine fellow." 

He noted the little shrinking, he was holding her so 
close. 

" Not in that way," and her reply was a soft whisper. 

*'Thank Heaven! But I want to hear you say oh, 
my darling, I want the assurance that I shall be dear to 
you, that it is not all because " 

" I should stay for Uncle Win's sake. I think Miss 
Recompense finds a great many sources of happiness in 
a single life. But if I promised you, it would be because 
because I loved you." 

tl Then promise me," he cried enraptured. " I love 
you dearly, if I haven't been much of a lover. I have 
said to myself that I was waiting for Hawthorne's five 
years to end, or to do something worthy of you. And 
now, Doris, I know what fighting means, and I would 



370 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

fight to the death for you. I am afraid I shall be selfish 
and exigent to the last degree." 

He felt the delicate revelation in the warmth of her 
cheek, the tremble of the soft hands, the relaxation of her 
whole body. And a kind of solemn exultation filled his 
soul. Except the youthful episode with Alice Royall, he 
had never sincerely cared for any woman, and he was 
very glad he could give Doris the first offering of a man's 
love as he understood it now. 

And then for a long while neither spoke, except in 
kisses love's own language. Every moment the mys 
tery seemed to grow upon Doris, to unfold as well, to 
pass the line of girlhood, to accept the crown of a woman's 
life. It had been very simply sweet. Some other 
woman might have made a rather tragic episode of her 
two lovers. Doris pitied them sincerely, but they both 
had the deepest sympathy from Gary Adams. 

" Let us go to him," Gary exclaimed presently, rising, 
with his arm still about her. 

There were two wax candles burning in their sconces 
that had been made over forty years ago in Paul Re- 
vere's foundry. By the softened light Gary glanced at 
the flushed face, downcast eyes and dewy, tremulous lips. 
Half the sweet story was still untold, but there would be 
years and years. Oh, Heaven grant they might have 
them together! And at this instant he was filled with a 
profound sympathy for his father's loss and lonely life. 

They walked slowly through the hall and paused a 
moment in the doorway. Winthrop Adams was leaning 
his head on his hand, and the lamp a little at the side 
threw up his thin, finely cut features, as if they had been 
done in marble, and he was almost as pale. The exulta 
tion went out of the soul of the young lover, and a rush 
of tenderness such as he had never experienced before 
swept through him. 



THE BLOOM OF LIFE LOVE. 371 

" Father," he said softly, touching him on the shoulder, 
" father will you give me Doris, for your claim is first? 
Will you accept me as her lover, sometime to be her hus 
band, always to be your son, and your daughter? " 

Winthrop Adams rose half-bewildered. Had the 
secret hope of his soul unfolded in blessed fruition? He 
looked from one to the other, then his glance rested on 
his son their eyes met, and in that instant they came to 
know each other as they never had before, to understand, 
to comprehend all that was in the tie of nature. He 
laid one hand on his son's shoulder, the other clasped 
the slim virginal figure, no longer a little girl, but whose 
girlhood and affectionate devotion would always fill both 
hearts. 

" Doris, my child you are quite sure " He could 

not have his son defrauded of any sweetness. 

Doris raised her downcast eyes and smiled, while the 
pink flush was like a rosy gleam of sunrise. Then she 
laid her hand over both of the others' in a tender, caress 
ing fashion. But she was too deeply moved for words. 

Winthrop Adams kissed her fair brow, but her lover 
kissed her on the sweet, rosy lips. 

They announced the engagement almost at once. It 
was done partly for De la Maur's sake, though after the 
first he took it quite philosophically. There were three 
people supremely happy over it. Miss Recompense, 
IVtadam Royall, who declared she would have been dis 
appointed in Providence if it had been any other way, 
and Cousin Betty, who was happy as a queen in her own 
life, though why we should make royalty a synonym 
for happiness I do not know. 

" You never could have left Uncle Win," wrote Betty, 
" and Gary could not have gone away, neither could he 
have brought home a strange woman. This was the only 
satisfactory ending. But I hope you will be awfully in 



372 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. 

love with each other and sweet and silly and all that. I 
am sorry for Captain Hawthorne, for, Doris, he loved you 
sincerely, but your French cousin can console himself 
with an English rhyme: 

" ' If she be not fair for me, 

What care I how fair she be ? ' " 

And oddly enough a few months later he did console 
himself with Eudora Chapman. 

Just a few years afterward there was a great time in 
Boston. For she had adopted a charter and become a 
real city, after long and earnest discussion. There was 
a grand celebration and no end of dinners, and young 
Gary Adams made one of the addresses. Mr. Winthrop 
Adams insisted that his life work was done, but he lived 
to be interested in many more improvements, and some 
charming grandchildren. 

" But after all," Doris would declare, " splendid as it is 
going to be, I am glad to belong to Old Boston with her 
lanes and byways and rough hills and marsh lands, with 
their billowy grasses and wild flowers, and great gardens 
full of fruit trees, and the little old shops and people sit 
ting on front stoops sewing or reading or chatting cozily. 
And what a pleasure it will be by and by to tell the chil 
dren that I was a little girl in Old Boston." 



THE END. 



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